


NFWMB

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Popstar, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Darcy Lewis Needs a Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Recreational Drug Use, Secret Relationship, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: At the beginning of another world tour, popstar Darcy Lewis gets a new bodyguard, Steve Rogers.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 580
Kudos: 352





	1. Part One: Teardrop

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very excited for yet another AU no-one asked for. (I wrote this for me.) This story will have a lot of triggering subject matter. Please read the tags. I will include content warnings at the beginning of chapters. The title of this fic comes from the Hozier song of the same name. The sentiment stands.
> 
> Please suspend your disbelief if any of this story is wildly, stupidly inaccurate.
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)

**Part One: Teardrop**

“Great set tonight, Darcy.”

Darcy beamed at the total stranger, raising a hand to wave to them as she walked down a back corridor, her footsteps echoing on concrete floors. She walked in front of Drax, clutching her water, her earpiece plucked out already. Her throat was sore. In fact, there wasn’t much to her that didn’t ache, but she didn’t have a chance to stop yet. She needed to keep moving, to get to the bus, to get to the hotel, to get to the airport tomorrow and start this all over again. 

Her phone was handed to her, and she unlocked it, not yet taking it off Do Not Disturb. Her work phone was never held by her, that was an assistant’s job. Her personal phone, the one she clutched in her sweaty hand, was worth perhaps thousands of dollars for the content within. Darcy had it insured, like how she had her body insured. Her vocal chords were the most expensive part of her, then her face. She got a new phone every three months, and she could sense this one needed replacing soon. 

She passed more workers, people that had set up the event. Caterers, waiters, attendants for the bathrooms. Security, florists, makeup artists, repair guys. Paramedics from the private company the label hired. Darcy did so much smiling and nodding that her mouth ached. 

Vaguely, she remembered something she was told as a kid - that it took less effort to smile than to frown. It made so little difference to her pain now.

She walked up the steps to the bus, leaning over to kiss the cheek of the driver, before moving on to the back where she could finally sit down. She gave a little sigh, knowing it was still a little way until she could fully power down. Another ten minutes of waiting until they could leave, since security needed to triple check there wasn’t anyone suspicious hanging around. Darcy used to wait for her fans, signing whatever was thrown her way. Now, it just took up too much time, and it was too risky. That’s what meet-and-greet and VIP tickets were for, but none were available that night. It was a tiny venue by comparison, only five hundred people, almost all of them press. They hadn’t stood in line in the rain to see her. They were doing their job, and so was Darcy. 

She uncapped her water and drained the rest of it, before leaning down to grab another from the mini bar. The bus finally took off, everyone inside lurching from left to right. Darcy was used to it, but one girl was thrown aside with a surprised laugh, and then everyone was giggling. Darcy knew she was laying it on thick, but she didn’t want to seem like she’d lost her sense of humor. She was tired, and it was better to be sweet and happy than a diva. She felt like she’d earned her sleep, but these people were paid so much less than her. Also, she’d rather sustained her semi-good mood, even if it was a little false, a least until she got to the hotel room.

They arrived another half hour later, Darcy still in her heels. She needed to work out a better way of dealing with aftershow routines, since the crew was keen to keep going, while she needed to turn in. It was all sort of a blur, her attention drifting in and out as the bus took them across town. She couldn’t remember where they were tonight, but it was somewhere in Delaware. They were due in New York in a few days, and every time Darcy thought of that, her guts churned. 

“Let’s go,” Drax said, and Darcy was pulled from her thoughts, his arm offered to her to take. 

She smiled up at him and walked off the bus. Darcy was suddenly aware of her bladder, and suppressed a sigh as she remembered it would take a couple minutes to get out of her gear before she could reach a bathroom. 

She took the elevator in silence, and she liked that Drax didn’t feel the need to ever say anything. He was silent and reliable. He was twice her height and width, too. Darcy gave him a little smile as he let her into her hotel room, where a familiar squeal rang out, followed by some adult laughter.

“Hey, baby,” Darcy breathed, as the four year-old collided with her. 

She lifted her up, kissing her face. She glanced over at the woman that was giving her a sheepish look, her shoulders shrugging.

“I’m sorry, Darce. She didn’t wanna sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Darcy said, even though she knew her daughter’s sleep schedule was second to none in importance. It was hard to control any of that when she wasn’t there for half the night, working.

She set Ellie back down, her hands cupping her little face. She had the same gap in her teeth that Darcy had, the same full lips and blue eyes. Her hair was a little lighter, but it would darken in time. 

“Mommy’s gonna get ready and then we can both go to bed, okay, Ellie-Belly?” she murmured.

Ellie grinned. Darcy placed her hands on her shoulders and spun her around. “Go color.”

The adults all laughed. Darcy moved away, walking into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind her. 

She placed her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. She exhaled, glancing at the mirror. The girl there wore heavy makeup, her hair tall and thick in several long layers. Her jewellery matched her sequined blazer and pants. She rose her hands to begin to take it all apart. She could have someone to do this for her, but she also had little patience with being touched after a gig, even after all these years. 

The hair pieces needed to go first. They were causing a headache, tugging on her scalp. Her natural hair wasn’t that thick. She placed each piece on the sink. She put her ear piece aside with her earrings, then the several long necklaces were next. Her blazer wasn’t snug, but the two layers of control wear underneath marked her skin. Her pants were next, then her intricate underwear that made everything sit precisely, her stretch marks hidden. Standing naked, hearing the bath run beside her, she closed her eyes for ten seconds, breathing long and deep. She could hear Ellie entertaining everyone outside, and Darcy felt her lips quirk. Her kid was the cutest on Earth, that was just the truth. 

She grabbed a wipe from a packet that lay on the sink, scrubbing at her face. Then she used coconut oil to strip her face of the rest, before finally sinking into the water with her phone.

She took it off Do Not Disturb and it immediately began to vibrate with several notifications. She replied to a couple, a sinking feeling coming on when she saw one that stood out from the rest:

**BROCK**  
**_I’m free to see her when you’re in New York_ **

Darcy sighed, putting her phone on the floor, before lowering herself into the bath until she was fully submerged. All she could hear was the echoing of the water around her. 

-

_“Steve-”_

Sharon sounded like she was choking. Steve didn’t need to look at her to know she was coming, her climax causing her thighs to tremble on either side of his head. Her hands were gripping his hair, tugging his face into her cunt. She was a familiar taste to him, and he’d missed this, but he knew this wasn’t going to last. He hadn’t come over thinking that she’d suddenly changed her mind. He wasn’t surprised when he resurfaced to see her whole demeanor had changed, as though her orgasm had triggered her guilt. 

He pulled back, wiping his mouth on his shoulder, panting like Sharon was. He’d been here before, as recent as last week. He knew what she was going to say.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He sat back on his heels. 

“Steve, I mean it. I like this guy,” Sharon added.

She hadn’t said that before. Had hardly ever mentioned her new boyfriend since the guilt was such a turn-off. She moved her legs back, swinging them off her bed to grab her underwear and pants and pull them back on. Steve ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s been eight weeks,” he said. 

“You counting now?” Sharon said, frowning a little. “It’s over, Steve.”

He could point out she was the one to text him to come over, same as last time. He bit his lip instead, letting it go as he glanced away.

“Yeah,” he murmured. 

His phone began to buzz but he ignored it, a rare move when it came to Sharon. She noticed, folding her arms over her chest as it went to Voicemail. Steve watched as she mulled something over, before her frown deepened. She sighed, giving an elaborate shrug. Steve picked up his shirt from the floor, turning his back on her to pull it over his head. 

“I really miss Molly,” she said suddenly, and he glanced back at her.

“Yeah, she misses you, too,” he said. “Same as me.”

“Steve…”

“I know,” Steve said. “You like this guy. I’m happy for you.”

She could call him a lying asshole for that, but he didn’t allow her the space to do it. He picked up his phone as he walked out, hearing Sharon call after him. He was making up her mind for her. 

-

“Thanks for coming on short notice.”

“No problem,” Steve said. He was sitting in a dingy office in Queens, opposite a man he’d only known in passing for several years. 

For as threatening as Drax looked, he was always so professional and polite. Steve had seen him work as a bouncer before, the same nights as Steve. He could lift two hundred pounds, and fling it across a room.

“Last time I saw you was at Wilson’s wedding,” Drax said. He smirked. “How’s that jackass doing?”

“Very happy jackass, from what I can tell,” Steve said. 

He laced his fingers together in his lap. There was a loud smack in the distance, and a groan that followed. Steve frowned at the sound, but Drax seemed unperturbed. 

“One of my guys is training some self defence this morning,” he said, and Steve nodded.

“Right.”

“Anyway, I have a job for you,” he said. “If you’re still doing private security.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. 

Drax gave a smile, clearing his throat. “I’m taking some extended leave. My wife’s about to pop. Baby number three.”

“Congratulations,” Steve said, and he meant it. He knew Drax was a devoted father, too, and would happily show anyone a photo from his wallet if they asked. 

“Do you have a lot of experience with security of VIPs, stuff like that?” 

Steve glanced toward the window, then back at Drax.

“I’m assuming you mean bodyguard work? I was on a team for some diplomats a few years back. With Buck.”

“This is one person only. And she’s very expensive. As in, very valuable to a lot of executives.”

Steve felt his brows furrow a little, wondering who Drax could mean.

“I can’t remember who you work for,” he admitted, and Drax smirked.

“You’ve heard of Darcy Lewis?”

Steve didn’t have to think. “The singer?”

Drax nodded. 

“Of course,” Steve said, with a little shrug.

There was a billboard of her down the block. He’d seen it when he walked from the station there. She was selling a perfume with her name on it. It looked like a sparkly grenade she meant to throw at the man behind her, some model Steve didn’t know.

“She’s gearing up for her new world tour and I recommended you.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “How long is the tour?”

“A year, give or take,” Drax said. 

He placed his hands on his desk, another groan coming from beyond the office, Steve briefly distracted.

“Okay,” he said again. 

It explained why Drax told him to sign that NDA as he came in. Steve wasn’t aware that this was a job interview. He thought maybe Drax meant to catch up, since they worked in similar circles. Both ex-military, with the same group of friends in private security. The only difference was Steve didn’t have a family, and Drax was several years older than him.

“I’ll give you some background, and if you’re interested, we’ll talk contracts,” Drax went on. 

“And if I’m not?” Steve said.

“Then I say thank you for your time and we never speak of this again.”

Steve nodded. “How expensive is she?”

“She’s worth fifty million dollars,” Drax said. 

Steve looked away, with a breath of a laugh. “Alright. I don’t really listen to her music.”

“Do you like Billy Joel?”

“She plays Billy Joel?” Steve said, a little surprised. 

Drax grinned. “No, asshole. I’m saying she likes music that she doesn’t play, too. It’s not about being a fan of hers. You know what you’d have to do.”

This job would be his entire life, something to be lost in. He’d live and die for this client. He’d literally take a bullet if someone tried to shoot her. He’d done that before, in combat. A popstar was different territory to a diplomat, too. He’d have to deal with all the strings attached to it.

“What can you tell me about her?” Steve murmured.

“She’s twenty-four,” Drax began. “She has a kid with her ex, Brock Rumlow. He’s a bigtime producer of most of her music. She fought for custody of their daughter for over a year, back when they split up.”

“How old’s the kid?”

“Four."

Steve frowned a little. “The ex is controlling?”

“As much as he can be from a distance, yeah,” Drax muttered. “He’s an abusive piece of shit, same as most of the guys she’s with. They start off great, then…”

He waved his hand a little. 

“What about pills, or-?”

“She doesn’t do any of that,” Drax said. “Maybe smokes every so often. I mean, she drinks, but nothing out of control.”

This candid conversation might come across as flippant to Darcy Lewis’ struggles, but it was just how men in this industry worked. Steve needed to know every demon, it wasn’t about privacy if he was going to be close to her. If she had to have a flask on her at all times, Steve might have to provide one when hers wasn’t enough. 

“You’d be working for me, not the label,” Drax said. “So you won’t have to worry about making sure she’s a working corpse.”

“Good to know,” Steve muttered. “This ex she’s got, you ever encountered him?”

“Yeah, makes you stop wondering if they make pieces of shit that big. They really do,” Drax murmured. “Her people keep her safe, for the most part. Her boyfriend isn’t great.”

“Who’s he?”

“Ian Boothby,” Drax said. “On his way out, I think.”

There was a pause, and Drax smirked.

“One thing you have to know about her.”

“What,” Steve said. 

“She makes friends with everyone. Everywhere she goes, she makes sure she knows everyone she works with. Everyone. You can’t let her be your friend.”

Steve felt something shift inside him, something like sympathy. The girl sounded like she had a lot of pressure on her, and being close to anyone at all would be a comfort to her. But he also knew that he couldn’t do his job right if it became too personal. He could care for her, but he couldn’t let it lapse into anything more than a professional arrangement. 

“Right.”

“She’ll try, though,” Drax added. “Kicker is, she trusts fucking no-one.”

Steve stared at Drax for a long minute, wondering what the fuck that meant.

-

He took the stairs two at a time. He had a list of things to do, if he meant to start this new job in three days. He tried to recall where he’d kept his passport as he walked back from the station. He let himself into his apartment, glancing around.

“Molly!” he called.

He walked into the kitchen where his laptop sat on the counter, still plugged into the charger. He opened it as he heard nails on the linoleum, and he glanced down.

“Hey, girl,” he murmured, dropping to his knees to pet the grey pitbull. 

She wagged her tail, moving to lick his face a couple times, clearly happy to see him. He opened the laptop, going to the cupboard to take out a can of food for her, grabbing the can opener from its usual spot on the counter.

Molly gave a little impatient huff.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Hang on.”

He emptied the can in her dish, straightening up again. Molly waited, licking her chops. 

“Okay, go,” he said, and she tucked in loudly, Steve chuckling. “Gross, sweetheart.”

She ignored him, too happy with her slop to care about making a racket. She was otherwise so well-behaved that she was like having another human in his apartment. Molly seemed to understand him beyond explanation. He’d never had a dog like her before. 

He’d signed the contract. Now he’d better learn some of her songs. It would be weird if he didn’t, he figured, and he brought up Darcy Lewis’ website. 

She was touring every state that year. According to Drax, she’d had a break of about six weeks over the summer, and now she was transitioning back into touring full time. She was in Delaware yesterday, and there were a few videos up on her YouTube account of a performance she did for a magazine in a little theatre. Though Steve was meant to be listening to her original tunes, what caught his attention was a cover she had uploaded. He clicked on it, turning up the volume.

She wore a sparkly suit, her hair like a curling tower on top of her head. She was beautiful, her face radiant under the little stage lights, but Steve could see it was toward the end of her night. She was holding her acoustic guitar, leaning against the microphone. 

_“This is a cover I’ve done for a movie that came out this summer. Sing along if you know it. This is_ Teardrop _.”_

Steve leaned against the counter, Molly eating beneath him, as Darcy began to play her guitar. It was her alone. Steve must have heard her voice before, at baseball games over speakers, or in malls or other places incidentally. He had no idea she had that much body to her voice.

_Love, love is a verb_

_Love is a doing word_

_Fearless on my breath_

He knew the original well. Darcy’s voice was not ethereal, but fierce and older than her years. Steve stared as she played all the way through, her brows furrowing over time, her eyes squeezing shut as she got to the end, practically yelling as she sang.

_It's tumbling down!_

_IT'S TUMBLING DOWN!_


	2. Part Two: Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is this? who knows?
> 
>  **cw:** allusions to sexual abuse

**Part Two: Respect**

The dive was packed with people for Thursday night happy hour - which never ran for shorter than four hours, really. It meant college kids were there drinking watered down shots, hollering almost non-stop while Steve nursed beer after beer. 

He wasn’t alone. He didn’t drink alone if he could help it. Bucky lifted his own beer bottle, eyes darting to a group of guys that should’ve been carded but got away with it. Nat had gone to the bathroom, leaving a brief impasse for her husband to grill Steve. It was a pretty obvious tactic that Steve pretended not to notice. 

“Did you go down on Sharon again, in front of God and everyone?” Bucky muttered. 

Steve eyed him, swallowing. “Yeah.”

“Nat and Sharon still talk,” Bucky added, licking his lips. 

Another whoop from the frat guys, briefly distracting them. Steve knew it was only a matter of time before they left. Bucky wasn’t particularly fond of crowds, which meant he was putting up with this to get through to Steve. Nat must have called this an emergency, from what she’d learned from Sharon.

“It’s over,” Steve said. He looked at the label on his bottle, picking at the edge of it, stripping it back with his thumbnail. “For good this time.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky said, and Steve frowned at him. “What, was I not supposed to say that?”

“No, it’s just- I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Steve said, finally feeling a certain level of self-consciousness. 

“Heads were up asses,” Bucky muttered, glancing away, brows raised. He tipped back his beer. “Either way, the tour would be good for you. Might meet someone.”

At that point, Nat slid onto Bucky’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck, pressing a light kiss to his lips. 

“You talking about the tour?” she murmured to Bucky, who nodded. She looked at Steve. “Y’know, you might meet someone new.”

Steve gave them a deadpan stare. “Really.”

“You’re not seeing either of us for God-knows how long,” Nat said, undeterred. “And it’s Thirsty Thursday.”

She leaned over, squeezing his shoulder.

“Cheer up.”

Steve smirked despite himself, looking away, as Bucky said:

“Actually, I think I’m tapping out.”

Nat smiled down at him, a lock of her hair falling into her face, which Bucky smoothly tucked behind her ear. There was a warmth to their touch that made Steve believe his best friends lived in two separate worlds: the one they created together, and the one that had everyone else in it.

“You got beers at your place?” Steve said, knowing the answer already.

“You inviting yourself into our family home?” Nat retorted, and he shrugged a shoulder. 

The walk back wasn’t spent talking about Darcy Lewis at all, but once they were in Bucky and Nat’s living room, Nat picking up the TV remote, it was clear she’d been holding onto several questions all night. 

“So how long’s the tour?” she began.

Steve shifted from foot to foot, taking off his shoes, Bucky already disappearing into the kitchen to get more beers from the fridge. By the time he returned, Steve had deposited himself in his usual spot, in the armchair beside the old lumpy two-seater couch. 

“A year, give or take,” he murmured. “That’s what Drax said, at least.”

“Her website said it’s not starting for another month,” Nat said. 

If she’d been researching in her own time, it meant there was a lot more to it than Steve was probably going to hear. As intrusive as Nat could be about his personal life, she kept a lot of her opinions to herself. Her internal monologue was probably constant, like Bucky’s. Nat’s thinking was usually superior to everyone else’s in the room, she just didn’t advertise herself that way. 

“She’s got a festival in a couple weeks. I have to do a trial run with Drax supervising before he officially hands it over,” Steve said. 

Bucky returned with a beer and tapped it with his own, settling beside Nat on the couch, looping his arm around her shoulders. She fitted into his side, talking to Steve with Bucky between them. 

“When are you meeting her?” Bucky murmured. 

Steve looked at the TV, where Nat was bringing up YouTube.

“Couple days.”

“She a diva?” Bucky asked Nat, as though she would know over anyone. 

“I don’t think so,” Nat murmured. She began scrolling through, Steve frowning as he sipped.

“What are you doin’, Nat?”

“Trying to educate you, since I know you know nothing about her music,” she retorted.

“I did some research,” Steve said. “I know she’s talented, at least. The rest doesn’t really matter, as long as I do my job.”

“Spoken like a true snob,” Nat murmured, and Bucky chuckled. “I doubt you can name a single one of her songs.”

“Hey,” Steve said, putting up his spare hand. “I’m not completely hopeless-”

“Name _one_ ,” Nat said, turning her full attention to him, staring him down. “ _Without_ cheating.”

Steve’s eyes swung upwards, taking in the ceiling, the crack in the plaster by the light fixture. He drew in a breath. 

“Uh, the one about licking lacquer or something?”

“Oh, the pussy one?” Bucky murmured, and Nat hit his chest. “What? I’m not helping him.”

Steve looked at him. “You know that one?”

“I love that song, are you kidding me?” Bucky murmured. “I don’t pretend I don’t listen to pop music.”

“I just don’t listen to mainstream music,” Steve retorted. “It actually makes me extremely uncool.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Nat muttered. She turned back to the TV. “We are going to listen to her.”

“I want the live stuff,” Steve cut in, and Nat rose her brows. “I don’t want the… manufactured shit.”

“Snob,” Nat murmured, but she was smirking.

Steve still frowned a little at the music that came up. Darcy Lewis was a talented singer, that was undeniable. Her songs didn’t always hit the way they were supposed to, Steve felt. What others found beautiful made him feel an absence of sweetness. He got the feeling the songs were made simply to fill some artistic space that could be claimed by someone lesser known. When it came down to it, Steve didn’t like being told what to like. Having a label push a character onto him made him uncomfortable at least, and suspicious at most.

“Her ex owns all her music,” Nat murmured suddenly, when Darcy was skipping across a stage to get to her mic, breaking the silence between the three of them. 

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” Bucky murmured.

“How does that work?” Steve said, and his friends stared at him.

“ _How_ do you not know about this?” Nat said, and Bucky’s brows lifted again.

“I don’t follow this shit, I dunno!” Steve retorted, giving a half-laugh. 

“Her ex owns her masters, and she signed with another label last year,” Nat said. 

Bucky rubbed the side of his nose, pulling in a breath. “It’s fucked up.”

“Her ex… he’s the one whose kid she had, right?” 

Bucky’s shoulders slackened, eyes widening pointedly. “ _Yes_ , punk. And she can’t get back with his label to get her rights back, without that turning into another steaming pile of shit.”

“I had no idea you were so fuckin’ invested,” Steve muttered, tipping back his bottle. “These people have the world handed to them. Drax said she’s worth 50-mil.”

“She’s self-made,” Nat retorted, somewhat defensive.

“Yeah, by signing with a multi-million dollar company,” Steve retorted. He gestured to the TV. “I’m sure she is a victim, but I can’t feel sorry for someone-”

“She’s from a foster family, she got with Brock Rumlow when she was eighteen, maybe,” Nat cut in, and Steve felt himself begin to deflate. “Even if she wasn’t poor, it’s fucked up. There’s rumors she was groomed for years, before they were a couple.”

“And then he trapped her with a kid,” Bucky muttered. “I mean, that’s what I think.”

“So it wasn’t consensual?” Steve said, staring at Nat. 

Nat bit her lip, letting it go. “Rumor.”

Steve glanced away, letting out a breath. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” Nat said.

Steve felt the need to apologize, but having Nat or Bucky hear it wouldn’t amend anything. He owed Darcy Lewis an apology. 

There was a brief silence, Steve staring as the autoplay began a live recording of Darcy from a couple years ago. She was beside two backup singers. It looked like she was well and truly into her performance, sweat on her face, shining under the stage lights. Her bodysuit was silver and glittery, her cordless mic matching it. Her bright red lipstick was flawless, along with the rest of her sweat proof mask of make up.

The opening chords of Aretha Franklin’s _Respect_ burst through, the crowd recognizing it. Bucky began to laugh.

“She can’t be fuckin’ serious,” he said.

Nat grinned. “You haven’t seen this before?”

“No.”

Steve was mesmerized by Darcy in that moment, the way she commanded a room with just her voice. He knew about her range, but hearing her live was the only way to do her justice. It was ambitious to sing a legend like Aretha, and a part of Steve wondered if she pulled it off. 

Darcy seemed to ground herself, pushing her hair back from her face, her backup singers clicking their fingers, dancing on the spot. The performance itself never lacked a spark. Steve watched as she hit every note, at times pointing to the crowd, smiling. As the saxophone played, Darcy did a little turn on the spot, raising her hands. 

When she turned back, Bucky said:

“Oh, shit, she means business.”

Her face had changed, a fierceness there Steve had seen before. 

_ R-E-S-P-E-C-T _

_ Find out what it means to me _

“Fuck, yeah!” Bucky yelled, actually clapping. 

_ R-E-S-P-E-C-T _

_ Take care, TCB _

_ OH! _

Steve stared at the TV, hearing Bucky whistle and clap. He sipped his beer, averting his eyes when Darcy was finished, laughing and bowing to the crowd. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky murmured, as if it needed to be said out loud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time - Steve makes a bad first impression
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	3. Part Three: I've Gotta Get a Message to You

**Part Three: I've Gotta Get a Message to You**

“Don’t be distant,” Nat warned him, pointing at him, Bucky between them. “She’s your charge but you’re supposed to be looking after her for the next year. You have to be close to her.”

“But don’t get too friendly,” Bucky added, and his wife nodded.

“You have the tendency to be too warm, to the point where it comes across as kinda… fake,” Nat murmured, and Steve’s brows lifted. “I mean, you ghost easily.”

“Thanks,” Steve muttered. “So I’m supposed to be somewhere in the middle?”

“Yeah, or you could, uh,” Bucky muttered, making a face.

“Be myself?” Steve cut in.

His friends exchanged a glance.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about that since, especially knowing this new information about Darcy Lewis that he apparently should have known. Steve blamed it on not having the widest music taste, as well as rarely having himself attuned to the cultural zeitgeist. He knew Darcy was immensely popular, her music had impacted pop culture over the last several years. This new album that was meant to come out to coincide with the world tour, it was her fifth and she was only twenty-four. 

Steve put on his best suit, knowing it was still cheap, and he hoped it didn’t show his lack of pride for his job. He was a hard worker, he just had very little fashion sense or time for it. He knew he was about to step into a wonderland of image-driven people, he only hoped it wouldn’t be too painful to watch people throw money away. It wasn’t his business how people spent what they earned, he had to remind himself more than once throughout his career. 

He met with Drax in Queens and they drove to a second location, a warehouse where Darcy was meant to be photographed for a magazine she was to be featured in sometime in the next few months, to go with promoting the album and tour. 

“It’s a new album, new tour, and a new fragrance,” Drax explained, his tone flat. He didn’t seem excited by any of it, only vaguely amused. “New image, too.”

“What?” Steve said, shutting the passenger door to Drax’s black Jeep. He adjusted his tie and made sure everything was relatively okay, Drax’s brows shifting upward ever so slightly, a smirk forming. 

“Every album, she has a new look. Last one, it was all Dolly Parton,” Drax said.

Steve recalled her bouffant in the video he watched that was recorded the other day. He nodded, wondering what on God’s green earth she’d do next. Hopefully not something ridiculous he’d have to help keep together in between car rides to and from events. He wasn’t equipped with any of that, and he never knew how women managed to pull any of that pageantry off with a straight face. Now that he thought about it, Darcy was rarely photographed not smiling. 

As they walked over to the building’s entrance, Drax pulled out a pass with his name and picture on it to show another guard standing by. 

“The label picked her up this morning while I was getting you,” Drax said to Steve, as they both stepped inside. “She’s been up since 4, I think.”

“Okay,” Steve said. It was just after 9 now.

He could hear music blasting in the distance, along with loud popping sounds every so often. There were people racing around, a crowd of workers in the dark, a large white expanse in front of a camera along a back wall. On a stool, sitting with a bathrobe around her bare shoulders, was Darcy Lewis. She had a girl with long auburn hair fixing something on her full lips, brushing them with something mauve. Drax walked over, no pretenses, as Steve glanced around, making note of each person. No sign of her kid, as far as he could tell.

“Hi, Drax,” Darcy said, without turning his way, as if detecting him in the corner of her eye. She pressed her lips together a couple times, twisting on the stool.

Steve was hit in the face with the sight of her. It was one thing to watch her on a screen, but her this close was another challenge entirely. He’d dealt with plenty of beautiful people in his line of work, but none of them made him stop in his tracks. 

She was smaller than he expected, her body sort of compact but proportioned in such a way that she boasted large hips and shoulders, an hourglass, though it was mostly hidden in the swaths of soft terry cloth. Her feet were bare, with red nail polish on her toes. She had her legs crossed, stretching a little from her hunched over pose when her eyes met Steve’s.

“Darcy, this is Rogers. Steve Rogers,” Drax said.

Darcy offered a hand, pulling it out from the mass of fabric pooled around her. 

“Hi Rogers, Steve Rogers,” she said to him, smiling. 

Steve took her hand, after a half-second of hesitation. She seemed to notice it, blinking. Her hands were soft. All her skin seemed to glow, and Steve had the feeling she was soft all over, which wasn’t appropriate to speculate. It was automatic, along with how he noticed how cute her speaking voice was. He’d only heard it in little increments since he signed Drax’s contract. 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, and she pulled her hand back, brows lifting.

“I know you didn’t just ‘ma’am’ me,” she said, pointing at him. She looked at Drax pointedly.

“Take it easy on him, it’s first day nerves,” Drax said, and Steve thought he might blush. 

He stepped back as the makeup girl came back with a little pouf to dust Darcy’s shoulders. Drax motioned they move away from Darcy completely, murmuring to Steve:

“Really? ‘Ma’am’? The kid is twenty-four.”

“I panicked,” Steve retorted. 

“Let’s see if you hang on longer than a day, Rogers,” Drax said. 

Steve didn’t know how serious he was being, but it wouldn’t be ideal if this didn’t work out. He’d have to go back to Brooklyn and tell Bucky and Nat what happened, and he could picture himself replying to Sharon’s texts again, falling back into that bad habit…

“Could I please have some coffee?” Darcy said, and Steve watched as a woman to his right sprang to life, moving away to the crafts table in the background to retrieve a white cup and saucer. 

The lead photographer stepped up as Darcy was handed the coffee, and she sipped it as he gave her his instructions. 

“Natural?” she repeated, making a face at the makeup girl, who grinned at her, giving her one last dust on her nose before she stepped away. “Okay. With my natural magnetic lashes and my natural lipstick…”

The crowd laughed, and Steve could sense some of them were laughing too hard for a murmured little quip like that. Darcy shrugged her shoulders, another three people coming forward to fiddle with her hair and wardrobe as she stood up from the stool. 

When she was finally ready for a photograph another ten minutes later, the air smelling of hairspray, Darcy put up a hand.

“Can we change the music? Whose playlist is this?”

“Not yours,” someone yelled, and Darcy grinned.

“Can the diva please have her own music, please? Not my music, but my music…”

The girl that got her coffee came back, handing her a phone, Darcy murmuring her thanks as she began to scroll through. 

Steve didn’t mean to be caught staring, but she suddenly glanced his way, his eyes averting to his shoes. He glanced up again when he heard the Bee Gees begin to play through the speakers behind the camera. It was one of their older songs, from before Saturday Night Fever. 

“It fits the aesthetic, no?” Darcy said to no-one in particular.

She shut her eyes, beginning to sway on her stool. The flowy chiffon shirt she wore made her look ethereal under the lights, her flared jeans matching the era of the song itself. 

The photographer began to chuckle, crouching to take her picture. The pops Steve would have heard before we test shots, he realized. When it got to the chorus, Darcy began to sing with her eyes closed. She did it flawlessly, so much louder in person than Steve expected. 

_I've just got to get a message to you_

_Hold on, hold on_

_One more hour and my life will be through_

_Hold on, hold on_

No wonder Drax hadn’t asked Bucky to do this job. Not only would he not see his wife, but Bucky would have to deal with loud noises, which wasn’t his way at all. Steve stared at Darcy, knowing she was performing, even if it was to a smaller group of people. She wondered if she had the compulsion to, like so many musicians. Maybe she couldn’t help the urge to express herself. She was exceptionally talented, from what Steve had seen. 

“No-one record a single fucking moment of this,” Darcy said, glancing around, but she was laughing. “I look exhausted.”

Drax actually chuckled at that, before glancing down at his phone again. He was tapping out a message to his wife, from what Steve could discern from the quick glance downward, before he looked back at Darcy again. As the music played on, she moved each way she was instructed, tipping her chin and tilting her head. She kept grinning.

“This isn’t high fashion,” she said with a smirk. “Oh, my goodness, so serious…”

More laughter, and Steve watched as she licked her lips, picking up her coffee again. 

“Sorry, I really need to finish this…”

She drained it and it was passed along, down a line of people. Darcy swallowed, sitting up again and straightening her posture, clearing her throat.

“Did we have the other options, for the cover? I liked the Gucci, I think,” she murmured. 

It sounded as though she was making small talk to give someone else the chance to speak. She didn’t sing anymore, though another Bee Gees song started up, and the photographer had begun to hum along. 

“We were going to go with the Bottega Veneta,” someone called out, and Darcy scrunched her nose a little.

“Oh. Okay,” she murmured. She licked her lips. “Why did the label think -?”

“It’s more couture.”

“Okay,” Darcy said again. 

Steve understood her confusion once she put the dress on. It made her resemble a tomato, it’s voluminous sleeves swallowing her, but her tiny waist was now the showcase.

“I dunno,” Darcy said, putting up a hand, looking around the group of people. “It doesn’t go with… with anything, really.”

“Let’s take some pictures and we’ll see,” called the photographer. “You look stunning, darling, either way. You could wear a paper bag and look good.”

“I’d rather the paper bag,” she said, and then she put up her hand again. “I’m sorry, I’m just confused.”

She settled on the stool once more, sitting with her hands on her lap, and for a split second Steve saw her face fall, before she carded her hand through her long glossy waves. 

“Smile, darling. The beginning of a new era.”

“Yes,” she said on exhale, her mouth forming a slow grin. 

“And it’s a beautiful new day.”

She closed her eyes again, still smiling. 

“Oh, that is adorable,” someone called out. 

Steve couldn’t deny that, watching as Darcy was fussed over some more, whisked away to change into yet another dress, one that wasn’t so vibrant, a thinner material in pale pink. She was barefoot once again, walking back to the stool, when the coffee girl stepped forward.

“Darcy, sorry. Your phone, it’s Brock.”

There was an immediate shift, a tense silence as Darcy took this news, the girl offering her a phone that was different to the one she’d used for the music. Darcy took it, glancing at Drax. 

“Rogers, you go with her,” he said, and Steve sprang into action. 

Darcy turned her heel, walking out through a tight corridor, Steve behind her. She was faster than he liked, especially since he didn’t know the building well. It would be better if she was behind him.

“Ma’am, where are you going?”

“I need some privacy, sir,” she retorted, sounding tired. Her voice was different to the one she used with everyone else. 

This was her as an ordinary young woman, clearly not wanting to take this call. Steve didn’t mean to call her that again, but he wasn’t comfortable with ‘Darcy’ yet, and ‘Miss Lewis’ sounded worse to him.

He put out an arm when she went to take a fire exit, and she glanced up at him, a frown on her face.

“Sorry,” he blurted, as she’d walked into him, her chest bumping his sleeve. 

She slipped out into the mid-morning sun, finally putting her phone to her ear. 

“Brock, you knew I was at a shoot today,” she began. Her voice was hushed, her back to Steve. 

She began to pace, her other hand on the railing. 

Steve thought it would be nice to take her photo out here, not with the studio lighting. He kept his back to the exit doorway, his hands together with his head slightly bent. He was trying not to watch her. He saw her feet pass him, so pale and small. Her soles would be dirty when they went back inside.

Darcy drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to Germany, I told you. I sent the schedule for the whole of September, and October.”

She glanced skyward before she shut her eyes, listening to him.

“Ian. His name is Ian.”

She frowned a little. 

“Fine. Do that. I mean, it’s illegal, and I’d advise you contact your lawyers. No, I’m not- I’m not, _don’t_ say that. You’re being unfair.”

She looked agitated, pausing her pacing. Her spare hand balled into a fist. 

“Brock. Do _not_ bring that up again. I told you not to. I’m going to Germany and you had your time with Ellie. Goodbye.”

She took her phone away, hanging up. She looked over the edge of the railing, right down to the bottom.

“We’re not that high up,” she murmured.

Steve didn’t know whether she was talking to him or not. She glanced his way.

“Sorry, I’m gonna need a minute,” she whispered.

“Take your time,” he said.

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath and letting it go. She seemed to relax a little. 

“Would you judge me if I had a mimosa when we got back in there?” she murmured.

Steve shook his head and she grinned. He found himself wanting to make her smile, murmuring:

“If I were you, I would’ve been drinking all morning.”

“What do you drink?” she asked, stepping a little closer.

“Beer, mostly. Scotch is okay, too. Gets the job done,” he murmured. 

“Noted, Rogers-Steve-Rogers,” she said. She swallowed, her face changing again. “Should probably get back.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” he said.

She looked away, pulling in another breath. She shook her head. 

“Makes me so fuckin’ angry,” she muttered. 

She moved toward him, slipping through.

“I’m sorry.”

Before he could reply, she took off back down the dingy corridor. When they returned to the crowd, she was opening her arms to them, yelling:

“Can I please have some champagne? With, like, a splash of orange juice?”

Everyone laughed except Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, it is so hard to feel good about my writing these days. The struggle is real. I'd appreciate some kind words. I feel like garbage and my brain is running on Windows 98 with a dysfunctional fan on a hot summer's day. 
> 
> at least I have the Bee Gees???? Uhhhh????
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	4. Part Four: You Were a Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, I am struggling, nice to meet youuuuuuuuuuu

**Part Four: You Were a Kindness**

Steve kept his back pressed to the door, his hands together in front of him as he stared at a particular spot on the carpet outside Darcy’s hotel room. 

Every so often, he could hear the murmurs from within. He knew it wasn’t his business to eavesdrop, but he did need to listen out in case he was needed for anything. When Darcy had gone in there over an hour ago with her boyfriend, he hadn’t batted an eyelid. It was normal, and she was a young woman in her twenties, and she apparently hadn’t seen him for a little while. They’d arrived in Berlin that morning, after a 9 hour flight. Steve hadn’t yet adjusted, but that had never been an issue before. It helped that Darcy wasn’t doing a lot that day, compared to others. 

He’d been doing well during this trial, according to Drax. Darcy hadn’t complained, and she’d specifically said Steve was to be her sole guard for this trip, since Drax’s wife was due any day now. If this went according to plan, he’d be smooth sailing for the first leg of the tour, which was back home in the States. This little trip to Germany was meant to be a precursor, an opportunity for Darcy to perform her new single for the first time to a crowd. The venue itself was not small. It was a major music festival, one Steve had actually heard of before. 

That was meant to happen tomorrow. In a couple hours, Darcy was due for a sound check. Currently, she’d disappeared into her hotel room and asked Steve to make sure she wasn’t disturbed. She hadn’t it with so many words, in fact, she’d gone quiet when Ian showed up.

-

Darcy watched as Ian got up from the bed, having rolled off of her a couple minutes ago. He grinned at her, as Darcy stretched out on her side, smiling back at him. 

She’d needed that. She had thought he was still mad at her a little, for catching up with her here in Berlin instead of coming to England. She simply didn’t have the time, and he knew that. In fact, he’d been told this repeatedly and still complained. Darcy knew it was difficult to have her career, her child, and her boyfriend all work out. She’d tried this many, many times before over the years. The equation was never right. Something always was uneven, or carried over. 

Darcy knew that having reunion sex would lift his mood, but he’d still be upset with her, even though she’d moved her schedule around to see him, and she was missing out on playtime with Ellie because of his inability to understand her situation. He’d always said that he was more than happy to accommodate, but as soon as anything didn’t work out how he wanted, he got prickly. It wasn’t something Darcy hadn’t seen before. Not even close.

She did like that Steve hadn’t actually made an ass of himself at any point, not that it was a reflection of her choices. She didn’t want Drax missing the birth of his child. The whole point of Steve was to transition out of Drax’s care. She’d seen Steve every day for the last week, and at no point did she consider him as fun as Drax, so she knew she’d miss her old security guy. She’d thought maybe she’d seen a glimpse of Steve relaxing a little when they first met, right after she spoke to Brock on the phone, but that version of him hadn’t resurfaced.

She was just going to have to adjust, because Drax’s recommendation meant she’d be safe, and Steve was the man for the job, apparently. 

“I’m going to order room service,” Ian announced, as if he was treating her, and she hadn’t in fact paid for this hotel room. 

He went to the phone, picked it up and ordered champagne with strawberries and chocolate fondue. Darcy lifted her brows, watching him recite all this stark naked, the air still smelling of their musk. She went into the bathroom, Ian watching her. As she returned, he’d put the phone back on the hook.

“On its way up,” he murmured, eyes shifting to her chest and then lower. 

Darcy was never too fond of her own nakedness. It never made her preen, men’s attention on her. She used to have to push back against the disgust it sometimes made her feel. She flopped back onto the bed, pulling a sheet up to her chin, resting on one elbow. 

“Wanda is still with you, I noticed,” he said. 

Darcy glanced away. “Well, of course. She’s one of my closest friends.”

“And Jane, and Carol? They’re still part of everything?” Ian went on. 

He followed her back to bed, slipping under the sheet. His hand came up to her waist, fingers stroking her skin idly. 

Darcy looked him in the eye, lifting her chin a little. 

“Nepotism at its finest,” he murmured, when she nodded. 

“Don’t say that, my friends are talented,” Darcy said. 

“They’re using you.”

“I’d use me, too, if I were them,” she retorted.

It always bothered her when men were too obvious about their insecurities. Obviously, Ian was upset that those women were still part of her life. They had told Darcy to break up with him a few weeks ago when he last walked out of a hotel room without her, and she hadn’t hidden that from him in the texts that followed between them. Of course now she regretted that, and hated him knowing he wasn’t welcome. 

“Are you even happy to see me?” he said, and she frowned a little.

“I flew you out here, didn’t I?” Darcy said, attempting to lighten the mood by moving closer to him, their lips brushing. 

“Those girls have always had it out for me,” Ian muttered, and Darcy pulled back, letting out a sigh.

She stayed on her back, closing her eyes as he went on, his words not reaching her. She was tired, and sick of his whining. He’d been like this for months. She knew the commitment he wanted - he wanted her to give up everything for him, so that he could become the center of her universe.

“Ian,” she cut in, not sure what he was saying. “I want to enjoy this festival. It’s gonna be… dope as shit, and I’m not even headlining it. I can see other performers like a real person, with you, if you just chill. Please.”

Ian paused, lips pressing together sullenly. There was a knock on the door and Darcy got out of bed, grabbing a robe on her way out. She thought of Ellie, and how she was stuck with Wanda. She’d rather be with her, getting ice cream somewhere, using her botched German to buy her kid something wildly extravagant. She wished she could spoil her kid rotten, not her boyfriend, who didn’t even appreciate it.

She opened the door and saw Steve standing by, a hotel clerk beside him. Steve was stoic, the clerk grinning at her.

“Miss Lewis, the room service you ordered,” he said in accented English. 

Darcy forced a smile, widening the door. He came in with the cart. Darcy put up a hand when he moved to lift the silver domes off the platters.

“Uh, that’ll be fine. _Danke_.”

The man disappeared, Darcy’s hand still on the door. She felt her cheeks flush a little when she glanced up at Steve again, the two of them alone at her doorway.

“Anything else?” she said to him, to break the silence.

“No, ma’am,” he said, with a single shake of his head.

Darcy didn’t like that, and had told him so. It wasn’t that he didn’t take her seriously - it’s that he didn’t want to make this any less painful than it had to be. 

So Darcy shot him a look, not liking his style. He softened a little, which Darcy didn’t expect.

“I’m sorry,” he added. 

“Well, stop doing that,” Darcy said, and she reached out, touching his arm. 

She turned her heel, moving back into her hotel room before she overthought yet again the idea that he knew she was having sex with her boyfriend while he stood outside to keep watch.

-

Steve watched her go, feeling foolish. He hadn’t meant to care about what Darcy thought of him. That wasn’t his business. He’d been employed by plenty of people who thought he was uptight. He’d fished people out of pools, escorted drunken assholes from bars and nightclubs. He’d chucked all types of fucked up people into streets over the years, and never had he cared about whether they thought he was a jerk.

It wasn’t because Darcy was famous. He’d dealt with famous people many times. He knew, not even deep down, that he cared about her. He cared about not only whether she was safe, but whether she felt safe, too. It didn’t help that he’d learned about her ex Brock Rumlow and Fisk Records ripping her off. 

She was young, and she’d already been through a lot in her life, and he didn’t want to be another stressor. He was the last person that was supposed to get on her nerves. He’d got plenty of abuse over the years from his charges. There was one year when a French diplomat’s mistress was so coked up that she’d convinced herself that Steve was holding the rest of her stash. He’d managed to get her off of him the numerous times she’d literally jumped on top of him, but in the end he’d been able to handle it. 

Darcy on the other hand… he didn’t like that he’d already seen so many different versions of her in the space of a few days, and the one that was most at peace seemed to be when she was completely alone. Even when he’d met her daughter Ellie, Darcy had been a different woman, watching her child as though she needed cues. 

Steve had witnessed it before, with politicians unsure of how to address a colleague, as though their relationship was so tenuous that nothing was certain, even though disunity would never happen. 

Steve did not mean to notice any of this, or to make his own assessments. He blamed the Army, he blamed being trained as a tactician a lifetime ago. He bit his lip now, the door shutting behind her. She was going to go back to her boyfriend, this guy she was also performing for, and Steve had to keep his head down and not make a sound. He could hear murmurs once again, and the sound of the champagne cork popping. Soon, there was laughter and music playing, something familiar from Steve's own collection that made his ears prick up, not unlike Molly. 

It was a pretty sad song, one that made Steve tend to stare at empty spaces. By the time it got to the chorus, Steve had stopped hearing any murmurs from beyond the door, or any private sounds he'd ignored earlier for Darcy's sake.

_ You were a kindness when I was a stranger  
But I wouldn't ask for what I didn't need... _

-

“Unbelievable,” the boyfriend kept saying. 

He was complaining about something to do with the green room. He’d be staying in there while Darcy performed. It wasn’t so crazy. In fact, it was standard for this type of event. The weather was sweltering, too, the last of the lingering summer and the festival had little shade in the outdoors. The green room had catering, and air-conditioning, but this guy wanted to be backstage like Darcy’s team were. 

“Ian, please,” Darcy said, for the umpteenth time. 

Steve hadn’t seen her like this with her own daughter. Ellie was more reasonable than this grown man. Steve had thought about checking this guy out, but Drax had already vouched for him months ago, when Darcy first started dating him. He was some British pseudo-upper class fella whose parents were connected to a duke of some type. The man was pretend rich, he wanted to be new money like Darcy was. He wore expensive clothes that said nothing about his personality, while Steve found himself looking at Darcy’s outfit with a kind of fond interest. She’d begun the new folk era of her image. Her long hair was down in long waves, her clothes flowy and loose. She wore beaten up black high tops beneath her flared thin pants. She looked beautiful, her face pinched as she was near pleading with Ian.

“You don’t care, if you did, we wouldn’t be here,” he retorted, hands up to prevent her from holding them. “We’d be in Prague.”

“I can’t go to Prague, I have commitments. You’ve known about these, Ian,” Darcy said, her voice beginning to rise from the frantic whispering she’d managed so far.

All this was happening as they were outside, behind the backstage entrance to the mainstage. Steve was standing behind Darcy, a good six feet away, while everyone in her team lingered. The backup singers were muttering to themselves, but for the most part, this argument was playing out for everyone to hear. Ian wanted to make a spectacle of himself. 

“Ian, I love you.”

“You don’t love me,” he snapped. “You don’t love me...”

He kept refuting everything she said, and Darcy was getting desperate, grabbing hold of his wrists and pulling him aside. Steve followed her with his eyes, making sure she was within reach in case someone decided to walk up behind her suddenly. Even Steve had dressed somewhat differently, in slacks and a pale blue shirt that made him seem almost normal. These were his day-off clothes, not something he’d wear to a gig. Not that he’d been to a gig in years. 

Ian was turning red in the face, and Steve felt himself tense, his eyes darting to the man’s hands, to check if he’d done what he already had - Steve’s hands were balled into fists and he quickly unfurled them, reminding himself that Ian was not a punching bag, despite how disrespectful he was being.

“I love you, please stop hurting me,” Darcy said, her voice beginning to wobble. 

“Give me your backpack, then. So I know you won’t ditch me for anyone else-”

“No, I need it, it’s got my water,” Darcy said, her voice shifting to something else, something harder. “You can’t take my stuff.”

Ian reached out regardless, grabbing one of the straps from her shoulders, and Darcy grabbed his hand, Steve finally springing into action.

“You can get another water,” Ian snapped, just as Steve stepped up beside Darcy. “What? What is it?”

“Don’t touch me,” Darcy said, and she stepped back, Steve now blocking Ian. “You don’t get to touch me whenever you want.”

“You-”

I dare you, Steve thought. Gimme one fucking reason. He was poised to fight. 

“Steve, take his wristband, I don’t want him here anymore,” Darcy said, glancing up at him. 

Ian’s face fell, before it distorted again into rage.

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Darcy snapped, and she stood back, watching as Steve took hold of Ian’s shoulder and spun him around, pushing him into walking back toward the vehicles for the VIPs that stood by.

Steve glanced back at Darcy, seeing she’d folded her arms, and then he was looking at the other security guards that were by the sidelines, ready for any fans that wanted to jump any gates. A couple took the hint, following him and Ian back toward the main entrance. 

Ian did not shut up, yelling curse words for anyone to hear. Steve gave him one last shove, after tearing the paper wristband off like a hot knife through butter.

Ian cupped his mouth, yelling to Darcy now, who was still standing watching in the distance.

“Good luck, bitch! Good fucking luck -!”

Steve suckerpunched him, within the same breath. Ian stumbled, falling on his ass, clutching his bleeding nose. He gave a groan.

“What the fuck?” he shrieked. “Are you fucking serious? Look at my fucking nose!”

“I am looking at your nose,” Steve said. 

He turned his heel, leaving Ian on the ground by the main entrance.

“Hey! HEY! Rogers, you broke my fucking nose! ROGERS!”

Steve walked back to Darcy, whose eyes were widened, her lips parted.

“Sorry about that,” he said immediately, and she frowned. 

They both knew he wasn’t sorry at all. 

“Um, one other thing?” he said, and Darcy glared at him, still astonished.

_ “What?” _

“I have a dog,” he said. “Can I bring her along when we get back?”

He knew this was not the time to ask, but Molly was staying with Bucky and Nat at the moment, and he didn’t want to have to worry anymore about what he was meant to do about her. He’d rather have it out in the open. 

“You… have a dog,” Darcy deadpanned, after a few seconds. 

“You can fire me,” Steve added. “Ma’am. I mean-”

“Shut up, I’m not firing you,” Darcy said, putting up a hand to silence him. “I don’t see any other brick shithouses offering their services today, do you?”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m going to go perform in front of that crowd-”

She pointed vaguely to the east, in the direction of the mainstage. 

“And _you_ can figure out how the fuck you’re bringing your dog on tour, okay? My brain is at capacity.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve mumbled.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Darcy snarled, pointing up at him. “Stop doing that. I am Darcy. You are Steve.”

“Okay… Darcy,” Steve said.

Darcy drew in a breath and let it go shakily. The rest of her team were watching them. Steve swallowed, looking away.

“Fuck my life,” Darcy whispered to herself.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered. “I feel that.”

She was staring at him a little differently for a couple seconds, before she shook her head as if to clear it.

“Okay...”

She walked off, Steve behind her, keeping a safe distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't listen to The National, kids, not even once
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	5. Part Five: The Downward Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't fully fallen for this story yet but we're getting there

**Part Five: The Downward Spiral**

Steve rubbed his head, remembering yet again what he’d done. He’d shaved his head, which he hadn’t done in about a year. He did it at the start of a new job, usually, or before a date. He hadn’t had either of those things in a while, so seeing himself like this again made him think of other times. He tried to not think about his personal life, especially not right now, unless it involved Molly, who’d been watching him begin to freak out since he woke at dawn.

He turned his head toward her, placing both hands on either side of the sink to lean against it, rolling his lip between his teeth.

“You ready?” he said.

Molly licked her chops, indicating she was. He’d already told her last night when he got her back from Bucky and Nat that he missed her and he wasn’t spending another day without her if he could help it. He knew it was more than a little strange, talking to her like this, but he knew she understood him. She was a brilliant creature, and it wasn’t his bias. She was perceptive, adaptive and the best type of dog. Steve couldn’t remember life before her, she seemed to blend into his world so effortlessly over the last few years. She was family, not just a pet. He hoped to get that across the Darcy that morning. 

“You’ve gotta be on your best behavior, okay?” he said, and he knelt beside her, Molly moving to give his chin a little lick. He dug his fingers into the space behind her ears, scratching her, taking a steadying breath. “I know I can count on you, sweetheart.”

He drove over to the apartment Darcy was at. She had the last of a few strings to tie up before she began the tour. She was releasing a bootleg-style music video for her label, mostly a spliced together project made up of footage from Germany and some studio behind the scenes clips. Steve knew all of this from overhearing meetings over the last week he’d been with her. 

Darcy had not mentioned Ian once. He hoped she wasn’t too torn up over it. Though the guy was clearly an entitled jerk, Steve did recall Darcy saying she loved Ian. It made Steve a little relieved he didn’t have to deal with him anymore… unless Darcy was the type to get back with exes. Steve used to not be like that, until Sharon. He was pretty good at walking away from people when he knew it was best for them, though Nat liked to oversimplify it and deem it ‘ghosting’.

Darcy’s place was a penthouse in Manhattan, its ceilings staggeringly high, the floors mostly marble, with huge windows all around. It was modern and cold, like a museum, and Steve didn’t like it much. Maybe he was a little snobby when it came to rich people, but he liked smaller places that looked lived in. This seemed like a hotel to him. It didn’t help that Darcy had multiple homes, in a multi-coastal, multi-national arrangement that meant she hardly spent more than a few weeks in the same place. 

As he arrived to her floor, the doors of the elevator opening, he glanced around to see the usual crowd of people milling around. One man shot him a glance, looking at Steve’s companion at his feet as he walked through the lobby with a red robe on a hanger, the garment covered in feathers.

“She’s with Ellie, she doesn’t want to be disturbed,” the man called over his shoulder. “Good luck.”

Steve looked down at Molly, whose tail was wagging anyway. She wasn’t easily spooked. He set off, moving through the front doors, seeing more stylists and assistants moving clothes and accessories around. For one person, it was a whole production to put her belongings together. Steve had already packed yesterday, and that in itself was a lot of crap for the next few weeks of travel, but all he needed was the same outside for seven days and some spare things in case he ever had time off, which he doubted. 

“Oh!” said Wanda, who appeared out of nowhere, holding a roll of makeup brushes. “You shaved your head.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve said, and he looked away from her, toward the hallway. “Is her room that way?” 

“Yeah,” Wanda said, still staring up at him. 

She was a sweet kid but he didn’t know her that well. That was the general assessment he made of most of Darcy’s staff. Wanda was the makeup artist she always had on call. She was a few years younger than Darcy, with long auburn hair, her nails perpetually painted black. She was very beautiful, in a way that made Steve wonder why she was a makeup artist and not someone that had makeup put on her… but he liked her, in a superficial way. She seemed safe enough, which was the main value of her to him.

He stepped aside, Wanda’s eyes falling to Molly, who was silent and deliberately walking in pace with Steve like a point guard. 

Steve walked on, taking another deep breath as he moved down the hallway, hearing soft laughter coming from within the room. He rose a fist to gently knock on the door.

“Darcy? It’s Rogers,” he said, and he heard a soft call:

“Ellie, open the door!”

Half a minute went by and the door opened, revealing the miniature Darcy that was Ellie. She grinned up at Steve, who felt his own lips quirk a little.

“Hi!” she half-yelled. “Mommy, it’s Steve.”

“Yes, I know, let him in,” Darcy called. 

Steve gave the little girl a nod and he stepped inside, Molly doing the same. Ellie went still, her eyes widening at the sight of the dog.

“Mommy, it’s a doggy!”

Steve, who was inspecting the room, seeing a four-poster bed on its one side, a large vanity against the wall on the other with Darcy’s back to him, glanced down at Molly. 

“That’s Molly,” he said to Ellie. 

The little girl was in awe, moving toward the dog, who’d sat down, looking back at this new little person. Her tail began to wag as Molly went to hug her, wrapping her little arms around Molly’s grey body. Molly began to lick her heartily and Ellie squealed in delight, Darcy’s head finally turning to see.

Her eyes met Steve’s and he saw there wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face. Her skin was glowing, and he realized she had some type of cream on, but she looked younger now, a vulnerability to her he hadn’t seen before. 

Her eyes dipped to Molly. 

“Okay, I didn’t realize you were _actually_ John Wick,” she muttered, lifting her brows a little at Steve. 

Their dynamic had shifted a little since Germany, though Steve was still resisting it. He hadn’t forgotten what Drax had said during that initial meeting, that no matter what he couldn’t be Darcy’s friend. She made it harder, bring her humor into everything. She was witty, which he didn’t think people knew about her. They always brought up how beautiful she was, but not that she was striking. There was always this underestimation of her that began to dig under Steve’s skin a little. It was like people didn’t know talent even if they were hit over the head with it. 

He’d been watching more of her older music videos over the last few days, secretly when he didn’t have any chance of being caught. The comments were usually very dedicated fans, but the comments under interviews were colder, making Steve bristle. He knew not everyone liked her, with great popularity there would be naysayers, and Darcy was very successful, but to sum her up with one word - ‘overrated’ - that wasn’t fair.

He knew he was dedicating too much time over this, too much thought. He couldn’t stop himself, and he hadn’t cared this much about a charge before. None of the others seemed to deserve his concern for their wellbeing. 

“You said her name’s Molly?” Darcy asked, when Steve said nothing about her comment, the moment passing between them unacknowledged. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. 

“How long have you had her?”

“Three years,” Steve said. “She’s four.”

Ellie, who for the most part was entranced by the dog, turned her head to Steve and announced:

“ _I’m_ four!”

“I know,” Steve said, smiling at her now. 

Darcy picked up her phone, tapping on it, scrolling as Molly was still being petted. Steve waited for Darcy’s attention again, hearing her begin to play music through her phone. She seemed to be surrounded by music constantly, always listening to something. Steve watched her many times in the last week start them over again when she was interrupted. His lips parted when the song began to unfurl, a whirring pulse that lead to soft guitar strings. 

“You know the song?” Darcy said, her words feeling sudden to Steve, but her tone was softer than usual.

He’d been looking at the carpet and glanced back up at her, nodding.

“Yeah.”

She gave a little smirk, the gesture melting away as she turned back to the vanity. She began to apply more to her face, the song meeting the bridge. It was Nine Inch Nails, a somewhat bizarre choice for Ellie to possibly overhear, but she didn’t seem to take it in, preoccupied with Molly, and the music was on a relatively low volume anyway.

The song changed to an 80s post-punk one and Steve felt another wave of recognition. 

“You have good taste,” he said, unable to help himself. 

“So do you, then,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, rubbing a jade roller along her chin. 

Steve averted his gaze deliberately. “I’m told I don’t.”

“Who says?” Darcy said, pausing her rolling. 

“My friends. They say I’m snobby,” Steve murmured. 

They didn’t need to keep talking about this. He said nothing else, feeling Darcy’s eyes on him still. A soft giggle slipped out of her, her face lighting up. 

“Molly!” she called. 

Molly sprang away from Ellie, racing over to Darcy. She placed her chin on Darcy’s thigh, an obedient gesture, her eyes wide and appealing.

“Aw, you’re so cute, I love you already,” Darcy whispered. She began to pet her, smiling down at her. “You wanna sit with me?” 

Ellie came over, watching her mom in the mirror, Molly sitting beside Darcy, guarding her throughout the process. After a few minutes, Steve heard a knock on the door, his eyes darting toward it, Molly’s tail stilling. 

It was one of the stylists, Darcy’s eyes swinging their way.

“Darcy, we need to start.”

“Yeah, okay, just a sec,” Darcy murmured, turning her attention back to the vanity. “Thank you.”

She rose from her chair a couple minutes later, gathering her hair in a bun and fastening it with a clip, her face having fallen a little. Steve watched as she put herself back together, dipping down to cuddle Ellie and then lift her up in her arms, keeping her fastened to her chest as she reached down for Molly to lick her hand a few times. 

She glanced Steve’s way. 

“I was going to go shopping after this, maybe,” she said. Her voice was flatter. “Some boutiques on 113th street.”

She was telling him this because he had to go with her. Steve nodded. 

“Okay.”

He watched her go, Molly lagging behind a little. He shot her a look, since she’d been laying it on a little thick that morning, how charming she could be.

“Really?” he whispered.

Molly licked her chops, settling into a slow stride with him as they followed after Darcy.

-

Darcy liked his head shaved, she decided. She was thinking about him when she was turned this way and that, assessments made as she was spacing out in the walk in closet. 

She hated this side of music, worrying about her appearance more than anything. She knew she was a hypocrite, with her skincare routines and her hundreds of dollars spent on facials and other treatments. 

Steve was very good-looking, in a way that made her want to look at him when he was meant to be fading into the background. He looked good with a shaved head, with hair, and probably long hair, too. Darcy swallowed, looking out the window. 

She thought about his long eyelashes, his full lower lip, the way his jaw looked at every angle. She liked the way he folded his hands at his front, looking at the ground when he was watching out for her. She liked competent people, and Drax hadn’t disappointed her. The dog was a surprise. She otherwise would have thought Steve had no personal life at all, by how little information he offered her. 

“I saw Blond Clark Kent shaved his head,” someone murmured, and Darcy felt her lips quirk a little.

They’d begun to call him that to one another. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but it was said behind his back. Wanda was the first one to physically react to Steve, as far as Darcy could tell. She’d mouthed ‘oh, my God, what the fuck’ when they were finally alone that first day, Darcy snorting with laughter. The situation could be far worse. At least she had a pretty face to look after her. 

“It makes him look tough, I love it,” another stylist named Jodie murmured. “But I can’t imagine grabbing a fistful of hair anymore, so that’s a little sad.”

“You can still grab him by the back of the head,” Darcy said, the first thing she’d said in ten minutes or so. “He’d take the hint.”

There was a brief silence before they all erupted in giggles. Darcy felt her face flush, picturing Steve standing by the door, wondering what they were laughing about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't wait for Steve the knight to treat Darcy like a queen...
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	6. Part Six: Sweet Emotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this! ❤
> 
>  **cw:** exes being assholes, specifically Brock Rumlow

**Part Six: Sweet Emotion**

Steve began to see a pattern in Darcy’s days. Though her preparation for her upcoming tour meant different days of planning, shopping, meetings and beauty regimens and therefore somewhat eventful, her behaviour tended to be the same. 

She’d start off relatively upbeat, a cup of coffee between her small hands. Her nails were natural and short, and she missed them being ‘claws’. From what Steve overheard, he learned she was giving them a rest, along with her hair. She had only had her own hair for the last several days, with no pieces or other elaborate attachments. Steve thought about how it would snag her scalp, weigh her head down. All the pain that he hadn’t associated with beauty since Sharon last wore stilettos around him came flooding back with Darcy. 

By mid-morning, Darcy’s mood would dip considerably. What started out as friendly became cold, and he was ignored for the rest of the day. It was as though a switch was flipped inside her and he was a stranger to her, or worse, invisible. Steve knew it wasn’t part of his job to have a relationship with her - Drax’s warning still rang in his ears every time he thought of this - but he began to go back over each morning, wondering if there was something he’d said or done to warrant this. Darcy would give him her brightest smile each morning without fail, only to retreat completely by lunchtime. Even more confusing was the late night goodbye, and how she’d become her friendly self again when he was about to head home for the night. 

He only had a couple more days to do this before he’d be spending nights close to her. He was managing on more sleep than she was, as far as he could tell. He started to theorize on the cause of her dip in mood. Caffeine, maybe - she drank a lot of coffee in the morning and then stopped in the afternoon usually. It could also be stress. She was constantly surrounded by people who related to her job, and the time she had with Ellie was rationed. 

Steve tried to not take it personally. He tried to not care, but then he started wanting to try to cheer her up, though he didn’t know where to begin. He felt like he was such an insignificant part of her day that he’d barely make an impact.

-

Darcy didn’t want to do choreography. She took a while to learn it. She knew she was better than someone who didn’t dance professionally, but she was a singer first, a dancer never. She was glad this era meant less time learning moves that made her shins feel like they were on fire, and she was less likely to injure herself when she was perched somewhere while singing while the dancers around her frolicked. It wasn’t laziness, it was that she had already enough on her mind to deal with learning dance moves she didn’t like. 

She still had to learn the way the dances were meant to correspond with her singing. She went to the dance studio for weeks before the new single was even out, and now concert rehearsals were underway. 

She was driven there every afternoon, spending three hours running through everything. She knew it meant everyone there was employed, mouths needed to be fed. As much as this was her show, it wasn’t completely about her. She could complain, but not too much. She’d complain under her breath, in private, with her backup singers or Wanda. 

The dancers were all new, too. Everyone hired after Drax announced he was leaving had to be vouched for. No-one was tied to Brock or Fisk as far as Darcy knew, but she still never let her guard down. It was impossible to. She knew it wasn’t paranoid to assume any disgruntled employee would tip-toe over to Twitter and blast her about being a nightmare to work with. She didn’t need that. Not all publicity was good publicity, and she’d learned that the harshest way.

She hadn’t thought of Ian for a while, not until one afternoon when they had a water break a dancer named Felicia whispered a little too loud about a certain spectator leaning that stood with his back against a wall to the far right of their practice space.

“God, he’s gorgeous, I wanna climb him.”

Darcy didn’t say anything, her eyes slipping over to the right, her bottle at her lips. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, knowing he might take it as a signal that she needed him. 

“Where did he come from?” someone else asked, probably Kitty, another new girl. She sounded less lascivious. 

“Anyone call dibs?” Felicia asked, before she gave a little snort. 

Several of them were all giggling now, and Darcy glanced their way, not sure what she was feeling. It wasn’t the same as when Drax was objectified around her. That tended to happen because he was built like a tank, but girls usually lamented him being married already. Darcy knew Steve was different. He wasn’t even ten years older than her, she guessed, and he didn’t ever mention a wife or a girlfriend. Darcy had wanted to ask Drax, but then he’d have questions for her. 

Was Steve a bad fit? Was he someone she couldn’t trust? Did he need to come back?

She didn’t want any of that. Drax had spent so long looking after her, she owed him. Steve being younger and single meant she thought about how he could be living his life elsewhere. He didn’t even listen to her music. He probably thought it was superficial and manufactured. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong. The majority of Darcy’s discography read that way, she couldn’t deny it, but she’d never tell anyone from the press that truth. 

Darcy felt a wave of tiredness. She was worn down by everything and they hadn’t even begun the tour yet. She was going to be a wreck within a few days, and then she’d be playing it up more and more, needing energy she didn’t have. She’d be shoved onto stages in cities she only visited for work. She was getting paid, it was hardly a hard life. She needed to grow up. She needed to remember how lucky she was, instead of being this selfish…

“Darcy?” someone prompted, and she glanced toward Emma Frost, another dancer.

“Huh?”

“What do you think of Steve, lucky girl?” she said. Her smile seemed a little put on, but Darcy didn’t mind. If these people were a little fake, at least they weren’t being mean to her face.

She enjoyed Steve’s company in those little increments throughout the day. He saw her looking her absolute worst first thing in the morning. He had to put up with her ludicrous shopping sprees. She’d already spent around $50,000 in his presence. He probably thought she was obscene. 

“She’s not gonna let you have him,” Felicia joked, nudging Emma. “No woman has probably wanted to share that man in his entire life…”

“I don’t need a man,” Darcy said, putting on a little smile that was probably too bitter, but she didn’t care. “I need a rabbit.”

A vibrator joke, it wasn’t that funny, but everyone laughed. Darcy was pretty sure Steve overheard, but she didn’t look his way to check. She put her water bottle aside and picked her prop guitar up again. 

The director came rushing over, his assistant by his side. He touched Darcy’s shoulder, which she didn’t like, trying to cover how she tensed. She’d prefer to never be touched, or at least, to be warned before it happened every time but she knew this demand would definitely come across as diva-esque behavior. 

“Honey, we’re gonna have to push until four?”

It came out like a question but Darcy knew there wouldn’t be a lot of wiggle room for negotiation. 

“I…”

She was counting on seeing Ellie after three. They were only meant to be there another half hour before they called it a day. Darcy was meant to be having a vocal lesson in between playtime, and yesterday she’d been told Brock was maybe pushing for more time with their daughter. 

“I was hoping to finish on-time.”

“I really am sorry, honey, but it’s down to the wire-”

Darcy finally looked Steve’s way, just so she didn’t have to look at the director anymore. He was staring at her, head a little bent, his arms folded. His eyes darted to man behind her, the tiniest crease forming on his sullen brow. He really was nice to look at, Darcy thought. It could be far worse.

“I need some time for Ellie and I,” Darcy said, after she took a deep breath. 

She sensed the dancers around her listening in but pretending they weren’t. They didn’t need to witness this, but she wasn’t going to be a doormat today. She already had agreed to Brock Face-Timing Ellie later.

“Honey-”

Darcy went still as she spotted Steve moving toward them, the director taking a distinct step back. The incident in Germany with Ian was probably spoken about length when Darcy wasn’t within earshot. If people were afraid of Steve, that was better than Darcy being trampled over by anyone from the label. If it wasn’t him, she’d like to think either Wanda, Jane or Carol would step in.

“Is there a problem?” the director began, glancing up at Steve. 

He wasn’t someone Darcy wanted anymore, but it probably too late and too expensive to get rid of him. She didn’t expect her judgement carried much weight with the label anyway. They’d call her creative freedom for this album all the leeway they would allow her for some time. Those thoughts made Darcy shrink and become quieter, and she tried to not think about being trapped, and every day it was too hard to stop that.

“Darcy has allotted personal time, it’s integral to her working life,” Steve said.

Emma snorted again, everyone glancing her way and she ducked her head, pressing her lips together. Darcy didn’t see Steve’s eyes linger on her. Darcy stared at the side of his face now, watching his eyes darken a little when the director opened his mouth to protest.

“Darcy has been here for hours, she got here early,” Steve added. “Her time with her daughter is paramount.”

“I’m sure that Darcy can compromise,” the director said, looking at her now. 

Steve caught Darcy staring but she didn’t care for once. She looked back at him, feeling a blush threaten to break out over her. 

“I already have today, Rod,” she murmured. She swallowed, finally looking away from Steve. “I’ll take it from the top, but I’m leaving at three.”

-

Darcy broke away, turning her heel. Steve stayed standing there, staring after her. The director closed his eyes for a second, sighing, his assistant standing by. 

“What are you looking at? You heard her. Move your ass,” he snarled, and Steve moved away, the director still berating his assistant while the crowd of Darcy’s dancers dispersed. 

He was back to watching from afar. The routine was fleshed out enough for Darcy not to pause any footing. She clutched a fake guitar, one made of plywood that was easily tossed aside for each new song. They got through five before Steve made a point of consulting his watch, his eyes meeting Darcy’s from across the floor.

“Thank you for your time, honey!” called the director, as she made a beeline for Steve.

He opened the exit doorway for her, seeing the director’s smile slip the second her back was turned. The girl seemed to be surrounded by liars. 

Darcy sighed, closing her eyes when she sat in the backseat of her town car. Steve looked out the window, trying to mind his own business as she began to tap out something on her phone.

“Fuck,” he heard her whisper. 

It wasn’t much better later when she was with Ellie, playing with her as her daughter was on FaceTime. Steve had left Molly at home that day and Ellie had asked about her. He noted Darcy’s smile when the dog was mentioned, but it faded once her ex rang and it hadn’t come back since. 

He was older, Steve knew that from what Bucky told him about Brock Rumlow. He was nearly twenty years Darcy’s senior, and their dynamic seemed cold. Darcy’s shoulders had tensed some time ago and Steve didn’t see her relax, even when Brock was showering their daughter with praise. 

Steve stayed back, thinking he should slip out into the corridor and give them privacy, but something about Brock made him reluctant to leave Darcy alone, even though the man wasn’t physically there. The man seemed arrogant, addressing Darcy in condescending ways. Ellie seemed to be a pathway to her, and the man couldn’t help himself.

“You starting in Jersey?” he asked Darcy.

“Yes,” Darcy murmured. She stroked Ellie’s hair, planting a kiss on her head.

“I might visit one night.”

“You know you can’t,” Darcy retorted immediately. 

“I’m not gonna do anything stupid, Darcy. For God sakes,” he snapped. 

Scratch that, Brock Rumlow wasn’t arrogant. He was entitled prick and Steve had no sympathy for him, no matter what happened between him and Darcy. 

Darcy briefly distracted Steve by beginning to braid her hair, her fingers moving fast and automatic. It was a mesmerizing movement as she spoke, Steve only catching half of her next sentience.

“...and May said that violates our agreement.”

“It’s cruel.”

“I don’t care about cruel,” Darcy said. 

“Would you let me speak to my daughter without attacking me?” Brock said. “All I want is to see her, and you keeping her from me will damage her forever, don’t you get that, you -”

He was about to call her something. Steve pushed off from the bedroom wall, moving so he was in the corner of the screen, standing behind them.

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t answer that,” Darcy said, eyes swinging to Steve. She looked at Brock again. “I’ve had enough for today. I’ve got a headache.”

“Bitch,” Brock snarled, and he disappeared in an instant, having lost his temper completely.

Darcy had frozen, staring at the home screen on the iPad, Ellie looking confused.

“Daddy had to go,” Darcy said, after a beat. She swallowed. “C’mon, you can find your dolly and we can play Spa Day.”

Ellie got up from the carpet, Darcy watching her wander over to the toy chest near the vanity. She drew in a breath, passing a hand over her face. 

“You okay?” Steve murmured, unable to keep it inside anymore.

“I’m fine, I’m just embarrassed,” she mumbled. 

“Don’t be,” Steve said.

Darcy was silent for a full minute, watching Ellie digging inside the toy chest, before she got up from the floor and picked up her phone. She began to play music, sitting back down on the floor. 

“Could you -?” she began.

“I’ll go,” Steve said, before she could finish. “I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

Darcy shook her head, and he saw her eyes were shining. 

“No, I meant, could you sit down? I don’t want you standing all the time, it makes me feel funny.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and he sunk to the floor, criss crossing his legs. He leaned his elbows on his knees, watching Ellie come over and hand him a Barbie doll. Her hair was a tangled mess and she was missing a top. 

“Thank you,” he said, automatic. He heard Darcy give a little chuckle, his eyes shifting to meet hers. Ellie handed her mom a Ken doll. 

“Spa Day or Picnic?” Darcy called, as Ellie went back to the toy chest.

“I wanna play Victoria’s Secret,” she replied.

Darcy shook her head a little, explaining to Steve:

“I let her watch one show… it’s one I performed at years ago-”

“That makes sense,” Steve said, and Darcy smiled again, eyes averting.

She twisted a little to grab her phone and change the song over. _Sweet Emotion_ began to play and Steve’s brows lifted slightly in recognition. 

“Thought you’d like it,” Darcy murmured. She suppressed another wider grin, which only made Steve's stomach somersault.

She seemed to brighten, Ellie returning to them with more toys. Steve found himself glancing at Darcy’s face more often than not, checking if she’d begun to deflate. She didn’t, so he stayed on the floor. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on the road officially next time!
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	7. Part Seven: Age of Consent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introducing one of my worst creative nightmares... attempting to write original song lyrics! fucking kill me, babes! 
> 
> note: I obviously mean the first song, not the New Order lyrics that give this chapter its title.

**Part Seven: Age of Consent**

Steve walked beside Darcy. It was a habit now, automatic. He was either beside her, in front of her as a shield, or behind her steering her subtly to where she needed to go. 

Darcy was aware of him the entire time. She was prepped, moved by car, then bus. She was guarded at each pass of her body from one place to another. They got to the stadium backstage and did one last run through of everything, before she went back to the hotel to spend an hour with Ellie, stealing what time they had together, Steve standing in the corridor, waiting for her. 

His dog Molly was by his side, sitting obediently. Darcy had begun to notice the creature's movements more - she wasn’t a simple pet. Steve had disguised her as such but Darcy got the feeling she could be just as defensive as him. 

Darcy was nervous. She always vaguely was but performance anxiety was another thing entirely. Everything that lead up to it, and everything surrounding it, meant touring was hell, but the performing itself was heaven. Darcy just had to hoist herself up onto stage to get herself to heaven, and it cost her every ounce of strength in the process. Knowing that Steve would see her in concert for the first time spurred her on, but she didn’t want to think about what that meant for too long. She wanted to impress him, since he probably thought she was an entitled little bitch. He’d watched her rehearse, but that wasn’t the same thing. She wasn’t her performer self when she rehearsed, and seeing her live was different to watching a recording. 

-

Darcy’s beauty stifled everyone else around her. Steve knew he was biased, he’d been spending that much time with her that she was the only person he saw in a crowded room. It also didn’t help that the concert was entirely about her. Her backup singers Jane and Carol were beautiful, but Steve rarely saw them, and when he did he only compared them to her.

She was dressed in a long black dress that made Steve think of Fleetwood Mac, which made sense. They seemed to be a major influence on Darcy’s current image, and any witchy vibes she gave off was deliberate. When she wasn’t dressed like this, she wore sweatshirts and leggings, and Steve knew she could still perform that way, too, and flourish. He’d never say that, though. He’d sound like such an ass. 

She glanced his way when it was time to leave Wanda and the makeup station. They’d be back there. Steve was mostly there to escort Darcy around, to make sure she got to the stage and the bus afterwards safely. The stadium security was doing the bulk of his job tonight. He’d left Molly in the dressing room, Darcy insisting she stay in hers specifically. Steve knew Molly wasn’t the type of dog to trash a place, but a couple staff gave him a side-eye, probably wondering what was so special about Molly for Darcy to grant special permission like that.

Steve didn’t want to explain, he wasn’t going to. Explaining meant introspection and he didn’t have time for that, and he wasn’t dumb enough to attempt it. He was going to do his job, and a fine one at that. He was good, and Darcy was the best at hers, too.

“Ready?” she said to him, flashing a smile. 

She wasn’t flat today. She was incredibly upbeat, actually, and he attributed that to having that extra time with Ellie. He’d keep that up if he could orchestrate that more. Her daughter had been left behind at the hotel, Darcy saying she didn’t need to be dragged back and forth all night. Steve admired that as much as it was the Darcy Lewis show, she didn’t demand her daughter accommodate for her. He couldn’t say the same of every past client of his. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he felt himself smiling back a little. 

They walked side by side, Wanda doing a last minute swiping of a brush on Darcy’s cheekbones. They were surrounded by other staff, voices overlapping as they half-jogged toward the stage. The crowd beyond was growing louder, the music of the opening band beginning to fade away. Soon, the stadium was meant to plunge into darkness and the whole audience would scream.

They paused at the doorway, the assistant adjusting Darcy’s mic pack and her earpiece. She stood still, taking a few deep breaths. She took her pick out, her hand delving down her front. Steve felt something warm that he realized was affection at the sight of her taking the pick out of her bra, her chin lifting to him, catching him.

He should feel shame, it was a lecherous thing to watch her do that, though it wasn’t his intention to make her feel that way-

And then she cracked another smile, a little different to any other one she’d given him before. 

“You better not fall asleep. This is the VIP of the VIP, Rogers-Steve-Rogers,” she said. 

She was not meant to be his friend. Under no circumstances. 

“I’ll try my best,” Steve retorted. 

His stomach fluttered and Darcy was ushered through the doorway and up the secret stairway. Steve watched her leave, a twist in his guts following. He could sense the danger there, but it was appealing, in the same way that Sharon had been when she couldn’t stop sleeping with Steve even after they broke up and she got a new boyfriend. 

The idea that it couldn’t be helped, that against all better sense, he wanted.

Unlike with Sharon, Steve now felt shame. He was supposed to be protecting Darcy and not taking advantage of the situation. He knew Bucky would roll his eyes at him and tell him it wasn’t like he’d been blatantly sexual with Darcy, but he knew what just happened was some type of misstep that turned into flirting…

Unless she was like that with everyone and he’d completely misinterpreted that? He glanced down, closing his eyes for a second as the staff lingered with him, mercifully none of them paying him any mind.

He heard the crowd erupt, and then the growing anticipation. He followed the others down the corridor, to another set of stairs that was meant to go to the stage doors. He slipped in just as Darcy appeared with her hand aloft, the single spotlight on her in the center of the stage, rising up from the floor. The opening chords of her new single made the crowd scream in recognition.

He’d heard it countless times. Even the performance in Germany hadn’t done it justice. He hadn’t cared about any of her songs, not properly, not enough, until this precise moment.

He felt goosebumps break out all over his arms, his stomach flipping when she began to sing:

_These days_

_I’m punching up_

_These days_

_I’m what you’re missing_

_And that ain’t right_

Jane and Carol joined in and Darcy burst into a grin. Steve could only watch her, even when the canons of glitter confetti set off when she reached the end of the first verse. 

Darcy was whisked away after the first three songs were done, and along the way, she looked over at Steve, lifting her chin once again.

“Thoughts?”

He put up a hand, making a so-so gesture, but his face felt hot. It was obvious that he was joking, and Darcy giggled, putting her arms above her head as the wardrobe people pulled her dress off, revealing a bodysuit. 

“You’re guaranteed to like this next one,” she said, when Steve had stopped looking elsewhere for the sake of modesty. Wanda was dusting her bare arms with something that made her glow, Darcy undeterred from the conversation. “Snob that you are.”

Darcy smirked, turning her heel to rush back out on stage.

“Hello! I’m back. All the moms and dads in the crowd will know this one...”

Steve knew it was a New Order cover from the rehearsals he’d watched. Darcy’s dancers circled her as she began to sing into the mike. She was handed an electric guitar. 

_Won't you please let me go?_

_These words lie inside they hurt me so_

_And I'm not the kind that likes to tell you_

_Just what I want to do_

_I'm not the kind that needs to tell you_

_Just what you, want me to_

Darcy didn’t remain still, though she was supposed to. At one point, she walked over to the backup singers and shared Jane’s mic, putting an arm around her. The singing lapsed a little into laughter but Carol carried it through until Darcy recovered, and then she turned her head toward the side of the stage, eyes swinging Steve’s way.

She lifted a hand like a pageant queen and gave a short bow before she raced back to her mark, singing to the crowd once more. 

_Lost you, I've lost you_

_I've lost you, I've lost you_

_I've lost you_

Steve couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t.

-

Darcy was almost falling over by the end. No wonder so many performers were on something to get through entire concerts. The worst she’d ever done was half an Adderall years ago, and that was before she was even well known, and the guilt that followed ate her up inside. She was spaced out for hours, her eyes like saucers. It wasn’t cute. 

She threw back a tequila shot that was waiting for her in the dressing room when she staggered back, aware of everyone around her, hands going to her body. Steve had already stepped out, lingering in the corridor with Molly at his feet, her tail wagging happily. It was after midnight, and she’d need to be up in four hours to travel to the next city. 

She closed her eyes, licking her lips as the burn ran down her insides. She gave a little shiver and felt hands tugging clothes away. Her legs were aching. She’d need to rest her vocal chords, drink hot lemon water with honey. She’d crawl into bed and collapse immediately… 

She was bundled into a pair of sweats and she tugged on a baggy hoodie, gathering her hair up into a ponytail. She’d scrub her face later, she mumbled to Wanda, who was already at her with a makeup wipe. 

“You’re dead on your feet, huh?” she whispered, and Darcy gave a half-chuckle, pretending to slump against Wanda fully. Wanda turned her head a little. “Steve, you better piggy-back her-”

Darcy shot her a look as best she could, Wanda smirking at her when Steve appeared in the doorway, brows lifted a little.

He was so cute it actually hurt a little. Darcy swallowed, shrugging. 

“There’s a crowd around the bus,” he said, and Darcy felt her heartbeat pick up speed, her mood immediately shifting to something defeated. 

“Okay…”

She slipped into the corridor, her backpack on one shoulder, and then Steve was beside her again, their footsteps echoing. Steve was silent, and she found herself wanting him to speak. She always wished he said more, and it felt like a gift whenever she got him to fold, it felt like a little victory she could treasure every time. 

She wanted that more than anything, especially when she thought of fans crowding her, pressing her in, crushing her…

He stopped at the exit, another security guard already there. 

“Ready to leave?” he said to Steve, who nodded. 

The door was wrenched open and there was a flood of clamoring voices, flashes of phone cameras, the outside teeming with screaming faces.

Darcy felt her heart in her throat. It all went straight through her. She could feel herself growing numb, she couldn’t feel her feet on the ground as she stared straight ahead, before she ducked her gaze. 

And then she felt Steve’s hand in hers, warm and gripping, fingers twining together like a companion, not a stranger that knew her name. Darcy felt a rush, her cheeks heating, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. 

His jaw ticked.

“Okay?” 

She nodded, and he took off, an arm out to tell everyone to back off. He was a tether and Darcy couldn’t believe how badly she needed him, how lonely it all felt when she was surrounded that way, how being on stage was somehow different. She felt smaller now, but he towered over it all, blocking the danger.

“Step back, step back…”

He reached the bus, at the last second moving Darcy by her waist, so she was in front of him, pushing her up the stairs, his chest meeting her back. The driver nodded at them, but they were otherwise alone, Darcy’s breath catching again, the pair of them pausing when they were far enough in. She didn’t pull away immediately, Steve’s body still against hers. 

“You okay?” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” Darcy lied. “Just… just gimme a sec.”

His hands were on her shoulders, and he squeezed them. 

“I’m here.”

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered. “Yeah, I know.”

The tense silence that followed was broken by a happy bark, and then several other voices chatting about an afterparty Darcy wouldn’t go to. 

Darcy fell into her seat, aware that Steve was still standing over her, Molly appearing at her feet, leaning up to inspect her.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered, starting to pet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	8. Part Eight: Don't Worry Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, my brain is refusing to cooperate properly so this was the best I could come up with today...

**Part Eight: Don't Worry Baby**

Steve stood in line at Starbucks. He realized that in the last few weeks he’d been paying more attention to the music that played in his everyday life. That morning, it was The Beach Boys. It was very early to be that cheerful, but the staff didn’t seem to notice. He’d known friends that received Purple Hearts, and he considered the people working at Starbucks at the crack of dawn to be perfectly eligible. 

“Hi, what can I get ya?” the cashier chirped. She wore her hair in little bunches with different colored butterfly clips dotted all through her blonde crown. 

Steve was second in line, his eyes shifting toward the window to check Molly again. She was waiting patiently, sitting by a water bowl someone had put out for passing dogs. Steve had felt a little guilty about the amount of time he hadn’t spent taking Molly for walks on the tour so far, but she seemed happy. They were four cities down, one more to go tonight before he had an unofficial day off. He still needed to be with Darcy, it just meant she didn’t have a concert tomorrow night. He’d managed to slip out that morning earlier for coffee, taking Molly with him. He needed to get back to the bus and make sure he was ready for Darcy. He consulted his phone again, only for it to buzz with a notification, a message for him to open.

_**Where’d you go?** _

Steve frowned a little, a worry creeping up on him. He’d given Darcy his number a few days ago, in case he stepped out when she needed him. 

He put his phone to his ear, having dialled her number. She picked up after a couple rings.

“Are you okay?” he said. “I went to go get coffee-”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Darcy said. “It’s no big emergency, I just noticed you ran off before I could say good morning.”

“Oh,” Steve said. 

The man in front of him stepped aside to wait for his coffee. Steve took the stride toward the cashier. 

“Are you at Starbucks?” Darcy asked, and Steve gave the cashier an apologetic look. 

He hated people that were on their phones when they were served, it was so rude. He shut his eyes, trying to remember his order.

“Yeah. A grande flat white, please,” he said. He swallowed, talking to Darcy. “Uh, do you want anything?” 

“Do they have the pumpkin spice lattes yet?”

Steve’s eyes darted above to the menu.

“Yes.”

“Please?”

“Okay,” he murmured. “Sure.”

He paid for his order, hanging up with Darcy, and he found himself so pleased with his decision to come, even if it meant Molly pouting from outside, Steve shooting her a look through the window. He heard a familiar voice behind him, a couple of the dancers from the tour.

“Of course he’s here when I’m hungover.”

“No-one made you go so hard last night,” said another voice.

It was Kitty and Emma. They tended to have a running commentary of their surroundings, Steve noticed, but Emma tended to be a less kind. 

“God, he’s so hot.”

They were whispering but Steve got the impression Emma didn’t mind if he overheard her. He kept his nose in his phone, pretending he was too busy to notice them. 

“I did the splits in front of him last week and he didn’t bat an eyelid,” Emma went on. “I could show him another trick. I could make something disappear-”

“You’re so gross,” Kitty muttered, unimpressed.

Steve wasn’t interested. He was too in his own head to really register any of the other women on the tour, except for Wanda when she’d occasionally chat to him. She was sweet, very friendly for no real reason other than her being a good person. At least Darcy had her. Jane and Carol seemed to be real friends, too. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping forward, picking up his order on the tray at the counter.

He walked out, keeping his eyes downcast, ignoring how Emma stared after him. He didn’t know if that was going to be a problem. He’d already made the impression of being a complete wet blanket. He was hoping she’d let it go, whatever her goal was. He wasn’t going to sleep with her because of her persistence. He probably wasn’t going to have sex for a long time, but he didn’t need to think about that. He was too busy to.

Emma was beautiful. She was statuesque and blonde, a lethal combination. She was objectively attractive, but he didn’t even consider it, and he didn’t know how to be polite about it if she ever confronted him fully. Luckily, avoidance was something he’d mastered with women. 

He walked out to Molly, who licked her chops at the sight of Darcy’s drink. She’d never been interested in Steve’s coffee before.

“This ain’t for you, sweetheart, we’ve gotta get back.”

She fell into step with him, occasionally glancing up at his drink tray with the glint of hope in her eyes, but Steve only shook his head at her when she did.

Darcy appeared at the steps leading up to the bus, pushing her hood back when she saw Steve approaching, grinning at him as he handed over her drink. 

“Thank you, good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he murmured. 

She crouched by Molly, pressing several kisses to her head.

“Hey, baby…”

She cooed sipping her drink, smacking her lips. Molly gave a little whimper, and Steve knew she was laying it on thick, playing the sulking puppy role. That was not her naturally. 

“She’s up to no good, do not listen to her,” Steve said, and Darcy glanced up at him, smirking.

“Yeah? You want some whipped cream?” she said to Molly, who was jumping when Darcy straightened up, her paws on her chest.

“Hey, hey,” Steve warned, but Darcy was only laughing. 

Darcy detached the lid, managing not to spill any of it, swiping two fingers through the cream and dropping them down for Molly to lick clean. She snorted, Molly too excitable to stay still. 

“There you go, baby,” she murmured. 

Steve couldn’t keep a straight face, though he was trying to frown at Molly. 

“I’m spoiling her, huh?” Darcy said to him, her eyes still on Molly, wiping her fingers absently on her hoodie. “She’s gonna be a complete diva by the end…”

Steve found that hard to believe, but he shrugged, going along with it.

“Where did you get her?” she asked.

“A shelter, three years ago,” Steve said. 

“You must’ve trained her a ton,” Darcy said. “She’s like, the smartest dog I’ve ever met.”

Steve felt a wave of pride. “Yeah, she is.”

Molly sat back down on the ground, licking her chops, Darcy smiling down at her. Steve watched her replace the lid, taking another sip.

“What do I owe you?”

“What?” Steve said, a little surprised. “No, it’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it-”

“I could owe you one,” she said, her eyes swinging up to meet his, drink to her lips. “Or…”

Where was she going with this? Probably nowhere. She was busy and so was he. She tended to joke with everyone around her. She took a step back, glancing up at the bus. 

“We have to go,” Steve said, and she nodded, the moment passing completely. 

Whatever she meant to say fell away, and Steve felt his heart sink a little. She’d shifted again, back to serious. He looked down at Molly, who was watching her go. 

Steve only had to tilt his head slightly for the dog to sprint up behind Darcy, following her onto the bus once more. Steve stood with his coffee tray, looking around the parking lot the bus was idling in. 

-

The concert went by without a hitch. Steve didn’t spend any time in the city, in fact, they may as well have not arrived in Buffalo at all, which was where the show took place that night. Steve didn’t know what they’d get up to if he took up the crew on their perpetual invitations for him to come out with them to party. He didn’t know any nice spots, or any bars of any kind. He was the worst type of tourist.

“Don’t go asking Steve if he’s gonna come out,” Wanda teased, when a roadie said something about the afterparty. 

“We have to get back on that bus,” Steve countered, and she rolled her eyes extravagantly.

“We don’t have to go anywhere, we can drink on the bus,” she retorted. 

Darcy appeared, out of breath, and Wanda flew to her with the wardrobe people, starting to disassemble her outfit. Steve ducked out, giving them space. Darcy stuck her head out the doorway a couple minutes later.

“You’re partying with those guys?” she said, and Steve’s face slackened.

“Is that what Maximoff told you?” he threw back.

Darcy smirked. “She might have mentioned the tour bus turning into a party bus.”

Steve shook his head, opening his mouth to give an excuse, but Darcy cut in.

“We do have tomorrow off.”

He shut his eyes briefly. “Respectfully…”

“You have to follow me everywhere, right? Contractually, you’re obligated to,” Darcy said, pointing at him now. “So, what if I want to party on the bus before I crawl into my hotel bed?”

Steve knew he couldn’t argue with her, it was his job. 

“Guess I don’t have any say in it?”

“Nope,” Darcy said, popping the word. She ducked back inside. 

-

Carol surveyed the crew that had all squeezed into the living room area of the tour bus. 

“There is only one rule for tonight,” she announced. “If it’s your first night with us, you have to sing karaoke.”

Everyone glanced Steve’s way. 

He knew he’d been a good sport so far. He’d been nursing a beer, making conversation with the crew as they all drank and laughed, music blasting in the background. Molly was stowed away with Ellie back at the hotel, being babysat by a woman named Colleen, someone Drax vouched for before they began the tour. She’d stepped in before, but Darcy always seemed reluctant to use her services despite being hired solely to take care of Ellie while Darcy worked.

Darcy was wedged between Steve and Wanda, Kitty on Steve’s other side. 

“I’m not gonna sing,” Steve said, and the bus erupted with groans. 

He rose his beer, Carol staring him down.

“You sure about that?”

Wanda leaned past Darcy, poking Steve in the ribs. “Come on.”

Darcy shifted a little in her seat. She’d been quiet the whole time. She was a wallflower in crowd situations, Steve had learned over the last couple of weeks. As big of a star as she was, she didn’t like constant attention, or she didn’t need it always to function. 

Darcy moved lifted a little to murmur something in his ear.

“I’m giving you an out, okay?”

He nodded. Carol had moved on, the group deciding it was Maria’s turn to sing. Carol planted a kiss on her girlfriend’s lips as she handed her the mic. 

“I need to go,” Darcy said, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

The room erupted in groans and she shrugged.

“I’m a mama, I’m sorry,” she said. 

People began to shuffle around for Darcy to get up, Steve following her. 

“Goodnight, everyone!” she said, waving an arm.

“Boo!” Emma yelled, several people joining in.

They slipped out the door, racing down the steps, Darcy’s feet hitting the ground. She folded her arms around herself, falling into step with Steve. He meant to walk toward the hotel, the bus stretched across the parking lot. Darcy reached out, grabbing his sleeve to stop him.

“Hey, let’s wait a sec.”

“What’re you up to?” he murmured. 

He wasn’t drunk. He purposely wasn’t, and he was pretty sure Darcy wasn’t either, but he felt looser all the same. 

“Walk with me, you have to, remember?” she said. 

He blinked, watching her turn her heel, walking the opposite direction, further down the street.

“Darcy,” he called, but she didn’t stop.

It’s not safe for you out here, he wanted to say. It was a pretty dramatic statement, but not inaccurate. 

“Don’t I owe you?” she called, not looking back. 

He followed her, catching up easily, glancing down at her. 

“There’s a diner over there, I think,” she said, pointing in the distance. “I’ll buy you a soda or something.”

“Someone’s gonna recognize you and it’ll be a mob,” Steve said, and Darcy shot him a glance.

“That’s why I’ve got you, right?”

“I’d rather it didn’t come to that,” Steve said, but he knew his arguing was half-hearted. 

They kept walking, pausing outside the diner. It was still open, but eerily quiet.

He opened the glass door for her and she flashed a little smile, walking inside. He scanned the main area, not seeing anyone eating in the red cushiony booths. Darcy’s sneakers squeaked as they walked toward the front counter.

“Um,” came a voice, and Steve’s eyes darted to the source, seeing a young black girl pausing her mopping behind the counter. “Are you Darcy Lewis?”

Steve put up a hand. “She’s not-”

“Hi!” Darcy said, lifting her own hand, waving. “How’s your night been?”

“Oh, my God! You are Darcy Lewis! I couldn’t come tonight because I didn’t get a ticket,” the girl babbled. Her eyes were like saucers, her mouth agape. “What… what would you like?”

“You got fries?” Darcy said, and the girl nodded rapidly.

“Yes, girl! For you? Absolutely. Could you-? AMBER!”

She’d turned her head to holler. 

“AMBER, GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

She turned back. A short girl with red pigtails appeared, covering her mouth full of braces with a hand, giving a shriek. 

“What are y’all doing here?” 

After Darcy managed to pay for fries, the girls made the order for her, packing it all up in a big brown bag. Steve took both their phones to take pictures of the three of them together in front of the counter, Darcy smiling in all of them. 

“You’re the best, we love you so much,” Amber said, close to tears. “Oh, my God…”

“Thank you so much,” Darcy said. 

As they left, she kept waving to them, Steve opening the door for her once again. When they stepped into the night, Steve gave her a long look.

“Very dangerous,” Darcy said, giving a little pout.

“Alright,” he muttered, looking away. “You got what you wanted.”

“Well, I want a Bud Lite, too,” Darcy said. She glanced further down the street. “I’m gonna get one. You want one?”

Steve had no choice but to follow her to the convenience store, where she handed him the bag of fries. 

“Hold these, please.”

She walked inside, and thankfully the clerk had no idea who she was. He even ID’d her, with no hint of recognition in the look he gave her when he checked her face matched the photograph. They walked back out, and Darcy handed him a beer, grinning at him.

“Let’s hang out somewhere.”

“It’s past 1AM…”

“It’s an empty parking lot,” Darcy retorted.

She sat on the ground, undeterred, Steve giving the space another glance around. He was armed if necessary, his lip between his teeth as he searched for anyone sketchy hanging around.

“Steve, sit down,” Darcy said. 

He hesitated, pulling in a breath, before he sat down next to her, their elbows bumping. They lapsed into silence, sharing the fries, Darcy sipping her beer, Steve doing the same.

Darcy caught him staring at the side of her face and he looked away, swallowing his mouthful.

“What’s up?”

“I…”

“What?” she said, her voice a little softer.

“This is gonna sound weird,” he began. Darcy licked her lips. He willed himself not to stare at her mouth. “I… I don’t feel like this is real.”

“You think I’m acting right now?” she said immediately, her brow creasing.

“No,” Steve said, even shaking his head. “I mean, I know you’re you. But I feel like there’s Darcy Lewis, and there’s… Darcy Lewis, and I don’t know how to remember that I have actually met you, that you’re real.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes,” Darcy said, and Steve was relieved that she wasn’t weirded out. “Fans telling me that I live in their phone, stuff like that. I met Brad Pitt one time, and I said something like that.”

“You met Brad Pitt?” Steve said. 

“Yeah, at the Oscars, I sang one time,” Darcy said, putting another fry in her mouth, biting it in half. “I didn’t win, but… I got to meet Brad Pitt. That’s pretty cool. Kinda wish I got his number.”

Steve smirked. “Wasn’t he married at the time?”

“Doesn’t stop everyone,” Darcy said. 

Her smile began to fade, her eyes shifting away. Steve saw her eyes change. She drew in a breath, something passing over her face, a feeling she couldn’t cover up with another joke fast enough.

“From my experience, at least,” she murmured. 

Her eyes had lost the twinkle of mirth. The moment passed, and he wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. This girl was worth millions of dollars, but she preferred to drink canned beer, sitting in the dirt. 

“It’s not my business,” Steve said, when she looked back at him again. 

“It might come spilling out one day,” she said. She sounded older, tired. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Steve said. “It’s not my place to judge. And… I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

“That’s pretty simplistic,” Darcy murmured, taking another gulp of beer. 

She probably meant he was naive, too, which Steve didn’t think he was. 

“Just don’t go running to TMZ or something when it happens,” Darcy muttered, half-joking. “I could sue you, and that shit’s expensive.”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve said. He tried his best not to sound hurt by her words.

“Alright,” she murmured. 

She stood up abruptly, placing her can on the ground. She rose a foot and crushed it, droplets of beer scattering around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	9. Part Nine: Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe more people will be on board with this, since I'm finally letting you get to know Darcy a little better

**Part Nine: Seventeen**

Darcy’s face was warm. She could feel the sweat on the back of her neck and further down. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious how worked up the little crowd had made her. It was only a small coffee shop after hours, but her nervous anticipation still got the best of her. The intimate setting pulled no punches, and Darcy always noticed when someone left or went to get something to drink in the middle of her set. These gigs were only short, and she was thankful for them, even though half the time people were talking while she sang her heart out. 

She knew she never half-assed it, she knew she always came off as very intense and earnest, but it was a performance. She figured it didn’t matter if she came across as a little too invested for such a small audience; at least she could always say she tried. 

She stepped off the stage, wandering to the back room. She and two other performers shared the coffee shop during the week. None of them had managed to get the owners to give them a weekend gig yet. When Darcy first started performing there three nights a week, she expected there to be some kind of animosity between them because they knew only the best performer would ever headline a Saturday night gig… but instead, all they did was encourage each other, which was better than what the crowds ever seemed to do. 

Darcy didn’t know how long she was going to do this. She’d moved into the city several months ago, and she knew she had to keep her expectations in check. She’d already taken years to ever muster the courage to perform to anyone, and only three of her original songs had seen the light of day. 

She almost walked into a stranger along the way. She didn’t know how she’d missed him, and then she remembered she was looking at her feet again instead of lifting her chin. She’d been practicing, but Darcy was naturally shy, inclined to check the floor before she managed to look a stranger in the eye. He towered over her, with his broad frame in a sharp, dark suit. His large hands were together, his bald head and bare face baring a wide smile for her as he looked down at her.

“So you’re the star,” he said.

Darcy felt her cheeks heat further. He seemed important. He had the air of someone who could be charismatic without trying. He could walk into a room and command it instantly. Darcy wished she could do the same. 

“I’m Darcy,” she said. Her voice came out a little higher than usual, almost a squeak. It was embarrassing but the man ignored it, offering a hand for her to shake. 

“Darcy, honey?” came a voice, and it was the manager, craning his head around the man. “This is Wilson Fisk, he saw you perform a few weeks ago and came back tonight.”

Darcy didn’t recall his face, and it probably showed on her own, Fisk chuckling.

“I like to sit in the back and observe, I’m quite introverted.”

“Likewise,” Darcy said. She could pretend to be funny. She could pretend to be charming. 

“Sit with me,” he said, and Darcy blinked, pulling her hand back, her lips parting.

“Okay.”

He turned away and the manager gave her a big thumbs-up. He must be someone Darcy should know but she didn’t. She knew she was woefully ignorant of a lot of things, but since moving out of her foster home last year she thought she’d made a massive improvement since coming to the city.

They sat at a little table, another girl already up on the stage sitting at the piano. Fisk made everything around him look comically small. Darcy tried to not picture him breaking a chair, pressing her lips together.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and Darcy paused, eyes darting up to his.

The coffee shop was selling espresso martinis at this hour, not that she’d ever had one.

“I…”

“Unless you’re not old enough to drink?” Fisk said, leaning forward a little, dropping his voice. 

Darcy swallowed. “I’m eighteen.”

Fisk’s brows shifted upwards ever so slightly. 

“I’m seventeen,” she amended, ducking her gaze to his large hands resting on the table between them.

“You don’t need to lie,” he murmured. 

Darcy’s stomach twisted. “I’m almost seventeen.”

“That wasn’t so hard,” he said, and she shook her head. 

She didn’t mean to seem like a child, that was the whole point. She’d finished high school early, and was living with a friend of her foster mother’s. So far she hadn’t done anything wreckless to make anyone reject their decision to let her move away from Bryn Mawr. 

“You don’t look sixteen,” Fisk said. “And you sing like a much older woman, too.”

“Really?” Darcy said, letting her eyes swing back up to meet his.

“Absolutely,” Fisk said, smiling again. “I’m supposed to know these things, I own a record label.”

Darcy’s grew wide.

-

Darcy jolted awake. She hadn’t done that in a few weeks, not since before she broke up with Ian. She sat upright, glancing around her darkened bedroom. She could hear the sounds of the city below, her mind slowly coming back to her. She was in Cleveland. She was staying tonight before they got back on the bus to head to Montreal tomorrow. They’d be on the bus from dawn until they got there in the afternoon for a quick rehearsal, then for the show that night. 

She ground the heel of her palm into her eye, leaning over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She remembered Ellie was in the next room, the urge for her to reach her to hold her strong enough for Darcy to get out of bed, but she saw on her phone display that it was after 3AM. Ellie needed to sleep, and Darcy wasn’t going to be selfish. 

She bit her lip, glancing down at her phone, wondering what to do. She felt wide awake, her dream of Fisk too vivid. The last time she’d dreamt of him, she’d thrown up, so this was an improvement. 

She sat back down on the bed, eyes shifting to the window, where the blinds were shut. She got to her feet, moving toward the window, taking a deep breath when she peeled back one of the shutters to peer out, down at the city below. 

She let the shutter go, stepping back, retreating to her suitcase that lay open on the floor. She knelt, grabbing a pair of sweatpants to tug them on, leaving her oversized shirt on that she usually wore for sleep. She carded a hand through her hair, stepping into the hallway, tip-toeing to her handbag on a table by the front door. She retrieved a vape pen and contemplated it, running her thumb along it.

It wasn’t hers. Ian left it behind and she’d kept it. She snatched up her headphones and took off, barefoot, into the light hallway outside the front door. 

The carpet was soft under her feet. She stayed at a lot of dumps over the years. Carpets were an underrated thing when it came to hotels. This place was expensive, not that she paid for it. The label paid for everything, but she was meant to be making them around 100 million in sales in the next nine months alone. They knew she was good for it. 

The door shut behind her and she heard a distant snuffle, her eyes darting to the source, seeing Molly was sitting in the hallway outside another hotel room. Darcy put the vape to her lips and took a hit, marching over to the dog and crouching.

“Did you get kicked out, baby?” she whispered.

The door suddenly opened and she glanced up at Steve, who was wearing a pair of sneakers along with gym clothes, his eyes widening at her.

“Darcy, what’re you doing up?”

“Were you going to work out?” Darcy deflected. 

She expected he worked out, those muscles didn’t come from nowhere. She knew it made sense he did it now, when she was meant to be sleeping and he had a tiny window of free time each day. It was kind of depressing, thinking about how little time he had for himself. She couldn’t say no to him bringing along Molly; Darcy encouraged it out of guilt, and she loved Molly a lot already.

“Yeah,” he said. His door shut behind him. “You were gonna sneak out without telling me?”

“It’s not- It’s not that big of a deal,” Darcy retorted, knowing whatever excuse she gave was lame. “I’m not in any serious danger if I go on the roof or something to wind down.”

He was looking at her too closely. Darcy didn’t need him judging her. She frowned a little, straightening up, lifting her chin. She realized belatedly that she wasn’t wearing a bra, hoping he wouldn’t stare.

“Can I come with you?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just gonna sit around.”

“You wanna come to the gym with me to… sit around?” Steve said. 

Darcy shrugged. “Can’t hurt. I don’t think I’ll sleep for a while.”

Steve hesitated, glancing down the hallway, tapping a finger on his doorframe.

“If anyone asks, I insisted,” she said.

“It’s not like that would be a total lie,” Steve muttered. 

As grumpy as he seemed about her idea, he was smirking at her when they set off toward the elevator, Molly between them. The elevator ride was silent, Darcy rubbing Molly behind her ears. She wished she’d had her with her when she woke before.

The gym was empty, three TVs on the wall muted and playing infomercials. Darcy sunk to the floor, lying on her back with her headphones in. Molly slumped on top of her, Steve shaking his head at her, a little smile on his face. 

Darcy watched from the floor, listening to music, as Steve bench pressed dumbbells, 110lb apiece. She watched the fluid movement of his muscles. He seemed to did this all with such ease, though Darcy couldn’t hear if he was grunting a lot.

Molly’s paws were on her chest, her eyes on the doorway, watching. Darcy closed her eyes, letting her head lull on the floor, wrapping her arm around Molly. 

She didn’t feel relaxed enough to sleep, but she wasn’t worrying about Fisk as much. Sometimes she’d have nightmares and convince herself he’d somehow followed her and was standing over her bed, or waiting for her in the bathroom. It usually made her jumpy the entire day after she had a bad dream.

When the song changed over to another, she lifted up onto her elbows, Molly looking at her briefly to check her before she turned her head again toward the doorway. Darcy watched Steve lift and lower the dumbbells, finishing a set before he dropped them on the floor. She could feel the soft vibrations of the weights falling to the floor. 

Steve sat up, face covered in a sheen of sweat, his hand rubbing his head. Darcy thought about touching his hair at least once a day. He glanced her way, panting a little. He pointed to his ear.

“What’re you listening to?”

“Something sad,” Darcy said, taking out one of her buds. 

She sat up, shuffling over to kneel by him, handing him the bud. He didn’t seem grossed out, his eyes slipping down to it, taking it from her to put in his ear. 

Darcy could smell him better this way, his body odour barely detectable, but she breathed it in, feeling the heat radiating off of him. 

_Downtown hot spots_

_Halfway up the street_

_I used to be free_

_I used to be seventeen_

_Follow my shadow_

_Around your corner_

_I used to be seventeen_

_Now you're just like me_

She watched the side of Steve’s face, still kneeling by him, the lyrics rolling over her. She shifted, leaning her elbow on the bench and resting her chin in her hand. Steve’s eyes glazed over, and Darcy knew he was deep into the song. As it ended, he looked at her, his eyes pinning her to the floor. 

“Thoughts?” she said, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

Steve held out a hand. “Can I pick the next one?”

“What about your workout?” Darcy said, and he shrugged. 

She obliged, feeling her tummy somersault, watching as he began to scroll through the songs. He kept smiling at the list, and Darcy knew there was a lot of cringey stuff along with the cool stuff.

“Oh, shit, I love this song,” he murmured, before his thumb pressed on the screen. 

It was an indie hip hop group Darcy only found recently. She felt a little burst of pride, that he approved of her taste yet again. 

Darcy moved up, sitting beside Steve, both of them hunched over as they listened to the next song together, Molly licking her chops before she slumped onto Darcy’s feet, warming them with her heft.

Darcy liked this, more than she was supposed to. She hadn’t had someone in her life like him in a long time, if ever. She moved closer, their shoulders bumping, but Steve didn’t move back. 

She looked at his face, to see his eyes were set on her hands in her lap. Darcy swallowed, moving her hand to her own thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

Her eyes darted to his spare hand, watching as he gripped the bench. 

She breathed slower, her mind racing. She knew it wouldn’t take much for him to reach her. Simply a turn of his head to hers and she’d kiss him. 

He wouldn’t do that to her. 

She was pretty sure he would have heard her and Ian having sex in Germany, before the breakup. She hadn’t been performing, but she wasn’t great at keeping quiet, either. 

Her mind, in an ultimate betrayal, made her think of Fisk. She felt a twist in her guts and she moved away, shutting her eyes as her face flushed. 

If she flirted with Steve, their genders reversed, it would be completely inappropriate. It would be an abuse of power. It was so wrong to want to be closer to him. He’d have no choice but to stay silent if she gave into any fantasy. 

Also, she could just be reading too much into everything. He was a smart, friendly guy, in his own quiet way. Darcy couldn’t possibly believe every guy that smiled at her was flirting with her. She was famous, but she wasn’t that beautiful.

She needed to get a grip. It was probably the tour, and Ellie, and Brock all playing on her mind. She needed to do a bunch of press as well, and she needed to focus.

She almost managed to be mean enough about Steve, chalk him up to being just some guy that worked for her, but he was more than that, and she couldn’t explain why. The draw of him was enough, and she didn’t think it was fair to put him into the same box as the men from the label, or any of the other men in her life. 

It was a crush, and that was okay. A crush never killed anyone.

When the song ended, Steve gave her back his half of the headphones, and Darcy stopped the music, glancing toward the doorway.

“I should go to bed,” she said, and he nodded. 

She got up, walking out, sensing him follow her out. The elevator ride back was silent, Darcy’s hand on Molly’s head. She ducked out, walking to the right, Steve lingering behind.

“Darcy.”

She paused, turning her heel to regard him, fiddling with the vape pen again. He drew in a breath. 

“It’s okay, Steve,” she said, putting up a hand. “I won’t try to go out by myself again.”

“It’s not… it’s not that,” he said. 

Darcy took a few steps back toward him. 

“It might help if I know how you’re feeling, so I’m not… I’m not being an insensitive jerk,” he said. “And I want you to know you don’t always have to be ‘on’ for me.”

Darcy stared at him for a few seconds, and his face slackened.

“I’m outta line-”

“No,” she said, moving toward him, reaching to touch him. It was automatic, and she really shouldn’t do it, but she knew she trusted him. 

She took hold of his wrist, before slipping down to clutch his hand. 

“Whatever you wanna say, it’s fine,” Darcy said. 

“No, I’m gonna disagree with you on that,” he murmured. He swallowed, eyes on their twined fingers.

The silence between them stretched, and Darcy drew in another breath, letting it go.

“You better get some sleep,” he said, and he let go, stepping back. 

“Yeah,” Darcy breathed. 

She turned back, feeling her heart had picked up speed. She suddenly felt so seen by him, her head bent, feet on the carpet again. 

She got to her bedroom without looking back. She’d seen him in a few hours, but she found herself wishing he was there, not as a bodyguard, but as a companion of some kind. 

Maybe she was lying to herself, imagining he wouldn’t be like Ian. 

She still let herself daydream, lying on her bed. She turned over onto her front, slipping a hand into her underwear, her breath hitching as she began to grind her hips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	10. Part Ten: Call Me When You're Sober

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angsssst also **cw:** mentions of physical/sexual abuse

**Part Ten: Call Me When You're Sober**

Darcy’s smile wasn’t as wide as it usually was. She knew most other people wouldn’t notice that, but she did, and that’s what mattered. 

She was spending thirty minutes at a radio station in Detroit before she met up with Brock at the hotel. She had the concert tomorrow night. She had no reason to not party with the crew, but she had no desire to. She could see herself moping over Ellie not being with her for the rest of the night. 

She flew through the questions thrown her way, even the ones that were meant to be played off as improvised but had in fact been rigorously checked by Darcy’s label. There wasn’t anything too personal about it, even though she’d poured a lot of her life and love into the new album. It was all very superficial, and Darcy didn’t mind. She didn’t want to spend too much time thinking that morning. 

“What about dating? Anyone special in your life?” one of the co-hosts said, leaning forward a little, like Darcy could whisper a secret to her and no-one would hear. 

She thought of Steve, standing in the green room with a few of her people, Molly on the tour bus. She kept thinking about him when he wasn’t there, and he rarely left her alone throughout the day. She should be sick of him, but anytime he wasn’t around, she felt worse off. Her stupid little crush was supposed to be a comfort, something that only made her fluttery inside. Instead, all she cared about was knowing when she’d see him again, as if he could disappear. 

“No, you got someone in mind?” she retorted, her smile fake, giggling to aid it when the co-host began to chuckle. “They can come meet me tomorrow night at the arena, we’ll get to know each other between each song.”

“There you have it, Darcy Lewis is single,” the other host said, leaning back in his chair. “Thank you for coming by to confirm that.”

They filed out of the studio, Darcy slipping into Steve’s side as they weaved through the corridor. She could feel everyone around her was generally chipper. They didn’t have to run ragged today. Wanda laughed at something that was said, bringing Darcy back to the present. 

A woman following them out asked about signing autographs for some fans in the lobby, and Darcy thought about a crowd forming, mentally calculating how long she could keep up her laid back charade. 

“Yeah, okay,” she murmured. More subdued. 

She was steered through to an elevator and she stepped inside, eyes swinging up to Steve’s.

_ And I want you to know you don’t always have to be ‘on’ for me. _

His words had been replaying in her head for days, and they hadn’t spoken about it since.

“I need a second,” Darcy said suddenly, and she put up a hand, Wanda pausing mid-step. “Okay?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll take the next one,” Wanda said, giving a little smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. 

The elevator doors closed and Darcy kept her back to Steve’s for a second, knowing she’d hadn’t been alone with him for a while. There was always someone else there. 

She swallowed. When had she become so shy around him, so aware of how she looked to him? Was she being obvious now? This was a bad idea. She’d only feel like an idiot around him. 

She was reminded of Fisk then and how he used so many excuses to see her, especially in the beginning. He’d made that behaviour normal to her, made her believe that her space wasn’t hers to own. Would she make Steve feel that way? 

“Long day ahead,” Steve murmured, and Darcy whipped her head toward him, one of her curls falling into her face. 

She pushed her hair away. 

“I’ll try to keep it lowkey,” she murmured. 

“I meant with Brock,” he went on. “If there’s anything I can do… if you wanna go shopping or be a tourist somewhere-”

“No,” Darcy said, a little too quickly, shaking her head. “No, I’d rather… I’d rather treat myself at the hotel. Maybe a massage, some French fries…”

She tried to smile but it didn’t work, Steve seemed to break the circuit when she meant to be fake. She let her eyes move back up his chest to his face, seeing those eyes again. He didn’t look through her, he didn’t let his gaze fall to her body like so many other men. He wasn’t measuring her up to some idea he had in his head. 

_ You’re shorter than I expected. _

_ You’re really pretty, y’know?  _

_ Sing for me? _

_ Give me a little spin. _

She’d heard all that and far worse over the years, and Steve didn’t seem like the type to say any of that. She felt her cheeks heat, her lips parting.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she blurted. 

She realized he was being tender, and that was the last thing she needed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, breaking eye contact, glancing at his feet instead. 

He even bowed his head a little, a sign of him being put in his place, and Darcy hated that far more. 

“No, it’s not- I’m sorry,” she said, and she moved to touch his arm. “I’m really stressed out today. I’m glad I’ve got you.”

When the elevator finally stopped, Steve moved in front of her, his eyes still avoiding hers.

-

Steve didn’t say a word to Brock when he showed up at Darcy’s hotel room. The older man had sized him up and down, Steve’s back to the window, Molly at his feet. 

Ellie was oblivious to all this. 

“This a new guy?” he said, a smirk forming. 

Steve wasn’t easily intimidated by men. Women, sure. He’d dealt with plenty of men like Brock Rumlow before. They all tended to act the same way, throwing their weight around, making women feel unsafe and bullied them into doing as they were told. Steve knew he wasn’t going to let that happen, and Darcy seemed to hold her ground. 

Steve knew that wasn’t something she would have learned overnight. She hadn’t spoken about Brock that much, so whatever Steve knew of him was only what Bucky had told him. 

Steve hadn’t forgotten how easily Brock called her a bitch the other day. His eyes were trained on him, only half-listening to the conversation he and Darcy were having as they stepped outside onto the balcony.

Ellie stayed inside, happily playing with Colleen, who’d had her all morning while Darcy was at the radio station. 

Under the simmering rage he felt, seeing Brock tear Darcy down, belittling the tour, Steve was aware of an urge to reach out, but it wasn’t to harm Brock. 

Darcy had been tense all morning. Her hands were balled into fists now, as she hissed up at her ex. Steve wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he didn’t have a worthy excuse for it. 

“I appreciate you going out of your way to be with Ellie,” Darcy said, squeezing her eyes shut, and Steve could see she was trying her hardest to not raise her voice. “But we agreed on one night.”

“If we asked Ellie who she wanted to spend more time with, she’d say me,” Brock retorted. “We have more fun together-”

Darcy finally lost it, yelling: “Because whenever she sees you, you have a day off! You only have fun with her, I have to raise her-”

“Raise her?” Brock repeated, scoffing. “You call this raising our child?”

“You don’t get to choose!” Darcy threw back. 

Meanwhile, Molly huffed, licking her chops, her eyes darting to Brock and then Darcy. Steve’s eyes fell to her. 

“No,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

It only took another second for Brock to take a step too close to Darcy, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, her back hitting the railing, and Steve gave a short whistle, Molly taking off. 

She bounded over to Brock, barking and growling, attempting to jump on him, Brock reeling backwards, hands raised.

“Hey, what the fuck!”

Steve kept still, not calling Molly back, Darcy’s eyes wide as Brock’s. 

“Alright, alright!” Brock said, backing away. 

Satisfied, Molly sat back down, her back to Darcy, guarding her as Brock shot Steve a look.

“I’m okay, Steve,” Darcy called, before anything could be said. “Brock and Ellie are leaving.”

Brock ducked inside, shooting daggers Steve’s way, Darcy staying against the railing.

-

He meant to give her a little speech about her safety and how Brock couldn’t treat her like that and get away with it, but he knew by the way Darcy turned icy cold toward him that she wouldn’t appreciate it. 

She turned in on herself, barricading him outside her hotel room, confiscating Molly and only letting hotel staff see her. A male masseuse came and went, and Steve felt a fleeting insecurity, then a wave of shame. It was never about him. He couldn’t imagine the life she’d had with Brock before they’d split, if it was anything like that on the balcony. 

What would have happened if Molly or him weren’t there?

His internal monologue was sharply interrupted when her door burst open, Darcy stepping out, wearing a little red dress and high heels. She’d put on her usual perfume, something fresh that Steve had memorized unintentionally. He knew other women wore it, but to him it was Darcy’s scent alone.

“I’m going downstairs to party with those guys,” she said, taking off without looking back. 

Steve pushed off the wall, following her. She didn’t say a word as she had her nose in her phone on the elevator ride down. Steve was back to being a fixture in the background. 

When they took the stairs up the bus, the whole inside erupted in drunken cheers and applause. Steve was going to be the only sober one, and that never made his job easy. He needed the clarity, Darcy not holding back when she was offered an array of options. She went for three tequila shots in rapid succession.

It turned out she could still sing when she was drunk. They were doing karaoke, Steve was forgotten about because their main star was finally partaking instead of cooping herself up in the hotel with her daughter. Steve didn’t like that she wasn’t allowed to be seen as fun just because she was responsible. 

The dancers were catty about this, less subtle than when they were sober. Emma Frost was the worst of all, brow lifting when Darcy took the mic from her after she threw back another shot. Steve knew Darcy’s intention was to black out. 

“We better keep track, she’s a miserable drunk,” Emma mumbled.

Kitty beside her rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And you’re a complete nympho…”

That seemed to prompt Emma to turn her attention to Steve. 

“You want a drink, Tall and Handsome?” 

He shook his head, not even bothering to look at her. Darcy was standing up and he was trying to estimate whether her equilibrium was still intact. 

She was reading the lyrics off the TV screen above their heads. The skirts of her dress came up to her mid-thigh. Steve had seen more of her skin before, but he still didn’t want to see her underwear if she didn’t intend it, his eyes resting on her face. She had a sheen of sweat to her already.

_ Don't cry to me, if you loved me _

_ You would be here with me _

_ You want me, come find me _

_ Make up your mind _

She was cheered on, Carol beginning to sing along. Darcy squeezed her eyes shut when she had to hit certain notes, doing vocal somersaults. 

_ You never call me when you're sober _

“Yes, healthy balance!” Carol yelled out, Jane nodding and clapping. “Go off, Darcy!”

_ You only want it 'cause it's over, it's over _

Darcy did a little curtsey when she was done, sinking back into her seat. She was very drunk, Steve thought, since her hand came to rest on his knee under the table, her attention on other people. 

He couldn’t keep himself from taking it personally all the same, the heat of her body pressed to his, her words slurring. She was a cute drunk, she was adorable always…

She was slumping a little too much twenty minutes later, her head resting on his shoulder.

“You better take her,” Jane said, leaning over to take hold of Darcy’s chin. “Darcy? You still there?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Steve said, and people were standing up to let him past, Darcy’s feet slipping.

He caught her, some of them laughing. Darcy snorted, still conscious. 

“Shit,” she slurred. “I’m good, I’m good…”

He didn’t trust her to walk by herself, pulling her away, one arm around her waist, Darcy’s arm slung across his shoulder. 

They ducked out of the bus, the cool night air hitting Steve in the face. She wasn’t too heavy, she was one of the easier types of drunk people Steve had dealt with before.

Countless nights of pushing girls into taxis, after getting their addresses from them in little pieces, passing the cab driver cash after he’d managed to convince them to take the semi-conscious girls. Darcy didn’t seem like she was going to throw up, but he’d been wrong in the past, shirts ruined, illusions of countless celebrities and their friends shattered…

“Hold on,” he murmured, and then he stooped to scoop her off the ground, Darcy’s eyes widening for a second before they went back to being glazed over and heavy-lidded.

“Holy shit, you can do that?” she mumbled. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, feeling his face smirk despite the concern he was feeling for her.

She was going to be hungover tomorrow, and she’d feel really bad about all this. She’d be embarrassed and vulnerable, and really lonely, too.

He heard her sigh.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbled. 

He kept his eyes straight ahead. The hotel was only on the other side of the parking lot. His cheeks flushed. 

“You smell really good, too,” she added, a finger gliding down the side of his face. 

It transferred up to his scalp, running along his shorn hair. 

“Wow… so fuzzy…”

She kept at it until they were inside, the elevator doors shutting behind them. Darcy’s hand came up to cup his jaw, Steve’s heart in his throat.

“Steve, look at me,” she whispered.

He obliged, seeing her eyes fall to his mouth, and then she was closing in-

He didn’t pull back fast enough, her lips brushing his for half a second, her hand still trying to keep him in place.

“No, no,” he said, swallowing. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“Sure I do,” Darcy said. 

“No, you’ll regret it, and then you’ll try to forget it…”

“Why would I wanna forget it?” Darcy whispered, and she ducked down again, Steve pulling back faster, shaking his head.

“No, honey. No.”

She blinked at him, her other hand on his face, too. She hovered, inching toward him, noses brushing. 

“Darcy, please,” Steve begged. “Please don’t make me push you away.”

“So don’t,” she said. 

He reeled backward, until the back of his head was brushing the wall of the elevator car. He shut his eyes, Darcy’s hands slipping down his face to his neck, then his chest.

“Okay,” she said.

He put her back on her unsteady feet when they reached her floor. She knelt to tug off her shoes, leaning on Steve. He took her by the waist to steer her to her door. He unlocked it for her, leading her inside. 

“You gonna be okay if I-?”

She already stumbled off, slamming her bedroom door before he could get the question out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I know.
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	11. Part Eleven: Addicted To Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **cw:** mentions of rape/sexual abuse

**Part Eleven: Addicted to Love**

“So, you’ve already been on tour for a month.”

Darcy took a sip of water, nodding. Steve had been up earlier than usual for one of Darcy’s non-show days. It meant she was doing more press, and the radio show, _This Is Not A Drill with Justin Hammer_. Steve was watching from the green room, on the other side of the glass. 

So far, all Darcy had done was talk about the show, and paused for commercials a few times. Steve’s assessment of Hammer and his co-host Christine was that they were superficial and Hammer seemed particularly spineless, overcompensating for some deep-seated insecurities.

“Yes,” Darcy murmured, licking her lips. She had her sunglasses on, which wasn’t uncommon for guests of the show. Steve had seen a few clips of the show online, out of what he considered now a morbid curiosity. 

“Favorite city so far?”

“It’s always the city I’m heading toward,” Darcy replied smoothly, pointing at Hammer.

He grinned at her with perfect white teeth, Christine doing the same. She was beautiful, in a true California girl kind of way. Their Sacramento show last night had gone by without a hitch. Since the drunken night in Detroit, Darcy hadn’t mentioned anything to do with kissing Steve.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, because he knew it was better that she didn’t bring it up while he was still employed by her. Drax’s wife had their baby, and Darcy had been happy with Steve over that, but she hadn’t been the same. Steve found himself wanting to impress her again, to turn her smile toward him. He’d only slipped further into the background over the weeks, quietly hoping. Molly got more attention than him. 

“Los Angeles tomorrow night,” Hammer said, nodding. “City of Angels.”

“Yes, it’s what’s on the label,” Darcy said, and there were more laughs. Hers kept slipping, Steve could sense this was weighing on her. The tedium of Hammer would grind anyone’s gears, yet his interviews were always wildly popular. Darcy just needed a few puff pieces to advertise the show, to keep people buying tickets to sell out shows, to make enough money for the label to add more. It was a cycle of resting and performing for months at a time, and Steve would never envy it.

“City of dreams,” Christine added. “You ever want to do movies, Darcy? You’ve been on some soundtracks.”

“Oh, I’m not the acting type,” Darcy said, making a face. “I’ll leave that to the actual professionals? Though Crossroads is actually a solid movie, I won’t hear otherwise-”

“Plenty of humble beginnings in L.A.,” Hammer cut in, and Darcy glanced his way again, nodding. “Like yours.”

“Yeah, well-”

“You came from very humble beginnings, from what I know,” he added, and Darcy’s smile faded, her eyes shifting to the producer that stood in the same room as Steve. “What does your mom think about all this?”

“My mom?” Darcy said, and he nodded.

An awkward beat, and she pulled in a breath, attempting a shrug.

“I guess I’d have to know where she is to ask her, and find out,” Darcy replied. Her voice had an edge to it now, as if Hammer was on thin ice. “Why are you asking me about my birth mother, Justin? I’m here to promote the album and the tour.”

“It might help to get to know you better.”

“Are you serious?” she said, without missing a beat. 

She wasn’t playing along, and Hammer didn’t seem used to it, laughing, but Darcy didn’t mirror him. Christine shot him a look, Darcy pushing her sunglasses up into her hair.

“What about what’s going on with you two?” she said, pointing at Hammer and then Christine. “I thought you two were dating on the down low or something last time I listened in. Might’ve been when Cardi B was last on-”

“We’re… we’re not dating,” Hammer said, laughing some more, shrugging. 

“Really?” Darcy said.

Steve knew what she was doing, she was deflecting. She did it often enough in her personal life, answering a question with another question, avoiding. 

“Yeah, Justin, really?” Christine Everhart retorted, a tad prickly.

“Uh-oh,” Darcy said, finally bursting into a grin. “Justin…”

“No, it’s not- that’s not what this show’s about, we’re talking about you, Darcy-”

Christine folded her arms, leaning away from her mic. Steve smirked before he pressed his lips together, trying to seem neutral. Darcy said nothing as Justin flailed.

“We’ll go to a commercial, we’ll be back in a second, folks…”

As the producer mimed cutting, Christine was up from her chair, shoving her headphones off with a scowl on her beautiful face, stalking off.

“Christine, honey-”

Darcy winced at Hammer. “Oof.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Hammer retorted, up from his chair as well. “Could you please get ready for your performance, now?”

“Sure.”

“You need to tune anything?” he added, a little sneer to his words now. He kept glancing at the door Christine ran through moments ago. 

Darcy was whisked into the adjacent room, where her band was standing by for the performance. She was meant to play an original and a cover. It took another minute to cajole Christine into returning to her seat in the other room, Justin less kind with his jibes toward Darcy.

“Do you even play anything, or stand there and sing?” he said. 

Darcy’s lips curled. “I play my own instruments, Justin. So full of jokes. Like UFOs.”

“UFOs?” Hammer repeated.

“I see ‘em everywhere but they never land,” Darcy said, and Christine began to laugh, louder than Justin liked.

“Yes, well. Girl power and everything, of course Christine’s happier you’re here than a producer guest we could’ve got.”

Darcy’s smile faded and the room immediately shifted, Steve’s rage so immediate he pictured slamming Justin’s head into the desk he sat at.

“But we don’t bring them up either, huh?”

Darcy said nothing, licking her lips, eyes straight ahead. 

The studio fell silent as a drum beat began, Darcy’s eyes colder, her face turning blank. She began to play her electric guitar. Her keyboardist accompanied her. 

_ Your lights are on, but you're not home _

_ Your mind is not your own _

_ Your heart sweats, your body shakes _

_ Another kiss is what it takes _

Jane and Carol began to back her up. 

_ You can't sleep, you can't eat _

_ There's no doubt, you're in deep _

_ Your throat is tight, you can't breathe _

_ Another kiss is all you need _

The bridge made Darcy shine through, her eyes flying shut as she made the seamless transitions. 

_ Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah _

_ It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough _

_ You know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love _

Darcy performed well for someone who seemed to be boiling from within, able to do the guitar solo without missing a single beat. The tension from before carried out until she song had faded away completely.

“That was Darcy Lewis covering Robert Palmer,” Hammer said, voice back to congenial. “Incredible.”

Darcy put her guitar aside, pushing through the doors, everyone staring at her as she forced her way through to her team in the next room. She didn’t look Steve’s way but he knew he had to follow her, whatever choice she made. She was still supposed to do one of her original songs, it was part of the show. 

“Who’s got my phone?” she snapped, and Wanda came forward, Darcy snatching it from her without another word. 

Steve followed her into the hallway outside, the producer attempting to do the same, but Steve put up a hand to stop them, bumping his chest.

“She’s got two minutes!”

“Alright, she knows,” Steve said, glaring at him. 

The guy faltered. “Jesus. She knows the angle of the show. Everyone does.”

Darcy spun around, eyes wide. “Are you fucking kidding me? This isn’t Howard fucking Stern!”

Steve’s arm was in the way of her, the producer recoiling, eyes widening. 

“Tell her-”

“Two minutes, yeah, I got that,” Darcy snarled. 

They were left alone, Steve’s eyes following her as she paced, unlocking her phone and putting it to her ear. She didn’t acknowledge him. 

“Karen, it’s Darcy,” she said, her voice even. “They… they asked about my mom. I thought the pre-interview was- yeah. Well. Obviously. I don’t want to.”

She huffed, glancing upward.

“Karen. Karen, he can’t mention any of that, I told you. I tell everyone. They wanted to bring up Brock, and… and…”

Steve watched her begin to crumble, the horror dawning on him that she might cry.

“Please, I don’t want to do more press, I need a second to breathe. I need… I need…”

She stopped mid-step, hunching a little, leaning against the wall. Steve glanced down the hallway, seeing someone turn the corner, promptly freezing before they walked back the way they came.

Darcy’s voice had shrunken. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. They said two minutes.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, tossing her phone in the air, Steve catching it. She glanced his way, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Who’s on your phone background?”

Her sudden question threw him off completely, and then he remembered another tactic of hers. She liked to be brought out of her popstar world by asking the people around her little things about their lives that weren’t related to her.

Steve took out his phone, holding it up. It was a picture of Molly, Bucky holding her in place.

“Who’s that?” Darcy said, her voice softer. 

He unlocked his phone, not caring that she saw his code. He thumbed through to his gallery and showed a picture of Bucky.

“Oh, he’s _cute_ ,” Darcy said, eyes growing wide. “ _Whoa_.”

“He’s married,” Steve replied, almost instantly.

Darcy’s eyes swung up to his, one brow lifting. “And is that his entire stage name, Married? Like Cher?”

“His name is Bucky,” Steve said, and Darcy’s mouth curled into a little smirk. 

He knew he wasn’t smooth, but Darcy had seemed to come back to herself, her eyes no longer welling with fierce tears. She sniffled almost absent-mindedly. 

“I better get back, they said two minutes…”

She shifted, Steve’s eyes on her back as she walked on.

“He likes you,” Steve blurted, and Darcy glanced back. “My friend.”

“You should bring him to a concert sometime,” Darcy said.

He’d heard her say that to hundreds of people over the last few weeks, and he hadn’t thought anything of it then. Now, standing with her in that empty hallway, he knew she meant it.

“Okay,” he said, and she nodded.

-

Darcy knew that it didn’t really matter how badly Hammer was as a host. The main story that came out of her interview was her diva behaviour. Some supposed inner circle source was backing up this claim, that Darcy was an overbearing and demanding person to work with. 

Darcy had read far worse, and she wasn’t an idiot - people had written far worse about her, but they rarely mentioned her birth family. Whenever that happened, it was like all niceties were thrown out the window, and Darcy’s insides would become corrosive with rage. 

At least she managed to get out of the studio without calling Hammer names, which she had seen before. The man would be lucky if Christine was still his co-host by the end of next week. 

She knew none of it was Karen’s fault, and she also knew that there was too much money at stake for Karen’s advocacy to carry enough weight for Darcy to catch a break.

That night, she drank vodka and orange juice, sitting on the floor with Ellie as they played with her stuffed toys. She was tired and grumpy, hoping her piddly half a shot would help her mellow out. She hadn’t drank for a few weeks, since the last time she’d acted like such an animal. In the stark clarity of a hangover, she knew she needed to create distance from Steve. She was as bad as Emma Frost if she kept carrying on the way she did. She was as bad as Fisk.

“You wanna bring Molly in here?” she murmured to Ellie, whose head shot up at the mention of the dog.

“YES!”

Darcy smiled at her, moving to slowly get to her feet. She always thought of Brock’s belittling when she was alone with Ellie. It ate away at her, how Ellie’s life was dotted around the country and overseas. Brock didn’t help the situation by taking her to theme parks whenever he could. She was spoiled but Darcy didn’t care about that; the consistency of a hometown wasn’t possible for her. She knew it used to be one of the reasons she took a little while to leave Brock. She feared the uncertainty of it all. He made her believe she had too little to support a child by herself.

Darcy still didn’t think she knew what she was doing, but at least she was trying. She got to the front door of the hotel room and opened it, peering around the corner to see Steve standing there.

Their eyes met and her stomach flipped like always.

“Molly?” he said, and Darcy nodded, glancing down at the dog whose tail had begun to wag.

“You wanna come in, too?” she added, and she saw Steve hesitate. “Ellie’s still up for a little while.”

“Yeah, okay…”

He rubbed the back of his head, Darcy opening the door a little wider to let Molly in. She gave Steve a little smile as he slipped past her. 

Molly bounded into the bedroom, Ellie squealing with delight. 

“You have to go to bed in about twenty minutes, okay?” Darcy said, placing her hands on her hips for maximum effect. 

Ellie didn’t seem bothered by this news. Darcy turned to Steve, who was hovering.

“Sit down. You want something to drink?”

Darcy managed to get him to take a glass of plain orange juice, and he sipped it carefully every few minutes, Molly being the main attraction. True to her word, Darcy made sure Ellie transitioned to sleep time by seven-thirty, Molly following her into the next room, flopping down beside the little girl as she began to doze off.

Darcy slipped back out into the living room, seeing Steve was still on the floor where she’d left him, his eyes staring at a spot on the carpet before he glanced up at her.

“Molly’s staying with her,” Darcy said. 

She sat down beside him, which was a lot closer to where she was before, but they weren’t touching. She considered that the wiser choice. 

“She’s a big softie when she wants to be,” Steve murmured, smirking.

She mirrored him, picking up her glass and draining it with a long gulp, licking her lips as she put it aside.

“I wouldn’t recommend you go on social media at the moment,” Steve said, when Darcy picked up her phone, her brows lifting at his suggestion. 

“Think I can’t handle it?”

“I think you can do anything,” he replied, and Darcy felt her stomach flip again. 

She glanced away. 

“Sorry,” he added. “I’m told I’m intense.”

“Well, when you speak, it feels like you’re always trying to make a point,” Darcy retorted, putting her phone screen-down on the carpet next to her. She shifted a little. “But you’re right. I’m not missing anything good that’s being said about me online.”

“They’re idiots,” Steve said. “They all are.”

“I know, but they knew my hiding spots, which… usually people pretend they don’t see,” Darcy muttered. “Journalists, I mean. Not that I’d call Justin Hammer anything other than a weasel fucker.”

Steve gave a little snort, the sound surprising Darcy. His eyes were bright with mirth.

“I missed this,” Darcy said, after a beat. Steve’s smile faded a little. 

“Yeah,” he said, eyes ducking to his glass. “But that’s okay.”

A part of Darcy had hoped for a little more resistance, but being Steve, he wasn’t one to shy away from honesty. She knew that, and didn’t like that she’d hoped he’d disappoint her. 

She decided to change the subject, pulling in a breath.

“Ellie’s named after Brock’s mother, Eleonora,” she murmured. “Did you name Molly?”

“No, that was her shelter name, I didn’t wanna dispute that,” Steve said. He rubbed the heel of his palm into one eye, putting his glass to his lips. “For a while, Bucky tried to give her a more human-woman name, something really weird and inappropriate.”

Darcy felt her lips quirk. “Like what, like Geraldine?”

“Barbara,” Steve said, bursting into another grin. “I guess it’s because Paul McCartney had his dog Martha. But that suits a sheepdog, I think.”

“What about Susan?” Darcy said, and Steve shook his head.

“Please don’t. I like Molly.”

“Me, too.”

Darcy watched him watch her, remembering their drunken half-kiss, hating the memory. She wished she couldn’t recall it in all its mortifying detail. 

She thought about how she was hiding away in her hotel room again while the crew partied elsewhere. She kept isolating herself, but Steve didn’t make her change or judge her for it. He seemed to understand. 

“My foster family never had any pets,” she began. “I don’t know how great I am with animals.”

“You’re really good with Molly,” Steve said.

He paused, looking like he meant to say more.

“What?” Darcy prompted. “You can ask.”

“Do you still see them, keep in touch? With your foster family.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I didn’t want to walk away the second I got to leave them for New York. I left when I’d got my GED, and then I was trying to make money by singing in random, crappy places all over Hell’s Kitchen.”   
She didn’t like how her brain told her automatically to steer away from this backstory. A lot of people knew about how she got famous. It was a chance encounter, considered an urban legend by a lot of critics. Darcy was manufactured in a recording studio, but that wasn’t because she was selected from a pool of girls. She was found, already an amateur musician, bright-eyed and so naive.

Something must have shown on her face, because Steve was leaning forward a little, his brow creasing.

“You don’t have to explain anything, or tell me. I’m here to look after you, but-”

“You’re not my therapist?” Darcy cut in.

His frown intensified. “No, I… do you think I’m telling you to shut up because I’ll judge you?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy retorted, completely honest. She shrugged. “I don’t know why you’re so nice to me, and why you’re so understanding. No… guy is like that, I’m sorry.”

She hated what she sounded like. Of course decent men existed, she just hadn’t been around many in years so her perception was skewed.

She shut her eyes for a second.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Whatever you’ve done, I don’t care,” Steve said. He sounded genuine, and Darcy couldn’t deny the earnest look on his face. “We’ve all got something.”

“What did you do, before private security?” Darcy said, shifting gears.

Steve took a second to follow. “Uh, I was in the army.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

Steve blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Darcy bit her lip. “Did you train Molly to be like… an attack dog or something?”

“If I needed her. She can help me, and my clients,” Steve said. 

It didn’t scare her knowing that about Molly. She was an intelligent dog, and she trusted her, which in itself was so wild to Darcy that she took a second to process what she’d already suspected of Steve and Molly.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” she asked.

Steve went still, before his eyes darted away from her. His next answer came haltingly from his lips. 

“I had one until a little while ago.”

“But you couldn’t work it out?” Darcy said.

“She has a boyfriend now. I…”

“So call her up and tell her how you feel. It’s not that hard,” Darcy said. “If you’re too intense with your words, you could always have some big romantic gesture do the talking for you-”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Steve cut in. “It was all me, not her.”

Darcy blinked at him. 

“Even before going into the army, I wasn’t great with… connections,” he said. “I had Bucky, and other friends, but… I was always a little out of step with everyone I met.”

Darcy didn’t know what to say, and decided it was best just to listen, feeling her face flush. She shouldn’t have been so intrusive, Steve owed her nothing.

Steve fell silent, and Darcy couldn’t take it for that long.

“I feel that way, too. All the time,” she murmured, averting her gaze to her hands. “I can’t explain it. I mean, I could. I know what the problem is. But…”

“You don’t wanna complain?”

“On top of everything, me bitching about being famous?” Darcy said, putting up a hand, scrunching her nose. “That’s so gross. People die for this, all the time.”

“It’s not worth it, though,” Steve murmured, and Darcy was inclined to agree.

She gave a little shrug instead. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Leave me alone forever with my money’?”

“There are worse things to say,” Steve said, his lips giving a half-smile, a little sad.

-

Darcy got up to get them both another drink. They switched to beer. It would be the only beer Steve would have tonight.

He kept waiting for Darcy to switch on him, push him away. He wouldn’t blame her if she did that. She was telling him a lot of things he figured she rarely said out loud. 

She returned to him, sitting opposite him on the floor, handing him a beer. She tapped it with hers.

“Cheers.”

He put the bottle to his lips and took a swig. Darcy gave a little sigh. 

“I don’t wanna get up tomorrow at 4,” she murmured. “I don’t wanna go to bed at all.”

That seemed like a contradictory statement, causing Steve to frown a little at her.

“You still don’t get it,” she murmured. “That’s okay. I know I don’t make a lot of sense to people.”

“You’re tired but you don’t wanna sleep,” Steve said, and she nodded.

He thought of Bucky and his PTSD, which took years to be acknowledged properly. He had plenty of jumpy moments still, along with the vivid nightmares. 

“I get it,” he added. 

Darcy took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me anything more,” Steve said.

He needed her to understand that. She didn’t want her to regret this, either. The kiss was a little thing, this felt much bigger.

“It’s okay,” she breathed. She cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s not okay, but…”

She shrugged a shoulder. Her eyes were dry but she sounded choked up. 

“I was seventeen, the first time he raped me.”

Steve felt his heart sink like a stone, all the way to his stomach. He sat up a little, their eyes meeting. 

“Brock?” he murmured.

Darcy shook her head, frowning, but she didn’t seem irritated by his ignorance. She swallowed.

“No. Wilson Fisk.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knowwwwww my timing is a little cruel but this chapter was already getting out of hand. The angst is about to go up about thirty notches in the next part
> 
> this does have a happy ending, I swearrrrrr. 
> 
> P.S. the IRONY that Sam Rockwell (Justin Hammer) and Leslie Bibb (Christine Everhart) have been together since 2007 was too good to pass up
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	12. Part Twelve: ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the most challenging things I've ever written. please be kind.
> 
>  **cw:** semi graphic flashbacks and discussions of rape/sexual abuse, gaslighting and manipulation; rape culture

**Part Twelve: ...**

From a young age, Darcy had a woman’s body. Her boobs were the biggest in her grade at school. When she was thirteen she got her first bra, and she didn’t seem to stop growing her curves. By the time she was sixteen, she was already focusing on her music and trying to hide her body in big sweaters, lumpy hoodies and unflattering layers so she wasn’t seen so easily. 

Growing up, she’d been called mature for her age. Wise beyond her years. 

She didn’t want to be at school all the time anymore, and her foster family didn’t mind as long as she pursued her passions seriously. She got her GED and begged to move out, if the county allowed it. Staying with a younger sister of her foster mother, she got a waitressing job. 

Wilson Fisk began to come every week, attending every performance of Darcy’s. He sat in the back, a quiet audience member that barely clapped. For such a mammoth frame, he seemed gentle and kind, and Darcy still wasn’t comfortable with calling him ‘Wilson’ though he insisted countless times. He was ‘Mister Fisk’ until he invited her to a recording studio in Greenwich Village. 

Darcy was so nervous when she arrived at the studio at their allotted time that she couldn’t keep still. She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants as she stood by the receptionist’s desk. Wilson appeared and folded one of her clammy hands into his, smiling down at her like she was an old friend. 

“So glad you came, my dear,” he murmured. He glanced at the receptionist. “Hold my calls, Tina. Nothing will come between myself and Miss Lewis this afternoon.”

He made her feel special. He’d done that for several weeks, visiting the coffee shop. He motivated Darcy to try her hardest. She was singing better, writing something every day. It wasn’t all good, but the point was that she was growing, and none of this was a mistake. She’d done her own research about Fisk, learning his company produced many established artists over the last thirty years, a few legends among them that Darcy looked up to. 

There were pictures of Fisk with some of these people on the walls of the office they walked into. He gestured to the couch in front of his desk and Darcy sat down, putting her guitar aside. 

Instead of sitting in his office chair, he sat beside her, his eyes dipping to her knee that bumped hers.

“Sorry,” Darcy babbled. She passed a hand over her face. “I’m so happy to be here, Wilson, I’m just nervous.”

“No need to be, Darcy,” he murmured. “However, I must stress it is very important that you managed to get here in the first place. I meet a lot of people every day that want a chance at grabbing my attention.”

He leaned a little closer, dropping his voice to something conspiratorial.

“And between you and me, I’m glad I found you without trying too hard.”

Darcy burst into a smile, somewhat relieved.

He put up one large finger. “But.”

“But?” Darcy repeated, after he fell silent. He winked at her.

“But, Darcy, this is a gamble for me. You have little experience as an entertainer. Your songwriting is…”

“I’m working on it, I know it’s not great,” Darcy said, sitting up a little. She drew in a breath. “I have so many pieces to show you, if you like-”

“We have people who can write for you,” Fisk said, waving his hand a little. “That’s not the issue.”

Darcy watched his hand come down, patting hers a couple times.

“I need to know you’re serious about this,” he said, a little crease forming between his brows. “I need to know that this means something.”

“Oh, this means everything to me,” Darcy said, her eyes widening. “I promise.”

Fisk considered this, nodding at her. He gave her hand another soft pat. 

“Well, I suppose we better go over what you’ve got.”

Darcy’s life became solely her music. She waitressed each morning, spent every afternoon writing music or practising in her room, and spent most evenings performing at the coffee shop. Fisk still visited her, made little notes on napkins at his table, and even began to clap sometimes along with the little crowd she had. 

Darcy began to live for those moments, the ones where Fisk was pleased with her. He was beginning to offer her things, like voice lessons to improve her skills, sessions with established musicians, photographers that could amplify her image. He never promised things, only shelled out little opportunities that might arise if she kept it all up. She couldn’t screw this up, and she refused to give in to any doubt. Because of Fisk, she’d begun to believe in herself. Singing was no longer a hobby, she was going to have a career. 

Fisk asked her why she didn’t have a boyfriend, since she was such a gorgeous young woman. He rarely called her a ‘girl’, as if the word wasn’t enough to fully describe her. He was always flattering her, telling her she must have the world on a piece of string at all times, since she was so talented and beautiful for someone so young. Darcy always said in her own mumbling, embarrassed way that she didn’t have a boyfriend, she had no time for that. She’d had some boys interested in her when she was still in highschool, but those days felt so long ago, and mentioning them seemed a little silly. Whenever he complimented her looks, Darcy would duck her head and blush, only for Fisk to reiterate:

“Everyone would want you.”

He was spending all this time on her, and then he started spending. When Darcy declined his cab fare the first time, they almost fought over it. 

“Wilson, please! I don’t feel comfortable with that much money,” Darcy said, pushing it back toward him. 

He curled her fingers over it, pushing it back to her chest.

“Darcy, I don’t feel comfortable with you being out so late on the subway, all types of characters live around here. I love this city, but I’d feel so much better if you took a cab home-”

“Wilson, it’s too much,” Darcy said, nervous laughter bubbling up. “Please. Please, I don’t want it, I can manage. I can take a cab with my money. I have enough.”

“I want to support you.”

“I can take care of myself, please,” she said, and she pushed a little harder. 

The silence that followed felt too tense, and she began to apologize profusely.

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful, I’m so sorry,” she babbled, touching Fisk’s hands, squeezing them. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“That’s alright, dear,” Fisk said eventually. He pulled in a little sigh. “I suppose I’m a little out of line, I just care so much for you, I want you to be safe.”

“I appreciate that,” she murmured. She was still holding his hands. “Sorry.”

“No trouble, Darcy,” he replied. 

She wasn’t going to let him down again. If he offered her money, she’d take it, but she promised herself she’d never have expectations from him. She’d had the same attitude to her foster families growing up. She was better off doing things for herself, surviving alone, relying on no-one. It was a little lonely at times, but she was so happy in New York, becoming what she felt was more herself. She couldn’t wait for the metamorphosis to be complete, possibly an album produced with Fisk’s seal of approval.

She was on the couch the first time it happened. Darcy had thought nothing of it, nothing seemed suspicious. His secretary was gone for the night, and frequently they stayed up together talking about music, about Darcy’s dreams to perform all over the world, to have her songs playing on the radio. The first major difference of the night was Fisk leaving her in his office to disappear somewhere beyond, returning with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Darcy’s brows rose, Fisk smiling down at her as he approached the couch. 

He put aside the two glasses, popping the bottle, Darcy jumping at the sound, a smile on her face to match his. 

“What’s the occasion?” she said. It seemed like the thing to say, Wilson chuckling.

“My dear, it is a celebration of your talent,” he said. “I am happy to say that we’re going ahead with your first single next month.”

Darcy’s heartbeat picked up speed, her mouth falling open.

“Oh, my God! That’s amazing! Thank you so, so much!”

She began to laugh, so ecstatic. 

“It took some convincing, but the last session we recorded sparked some interest with a contact of mine,” he said, pouring two glasses. “So we best drink up. I want to celebrate.”

Darcy had never had champagne before. She was still seventeen, and only had vodka mixed with juice at a high school party. She’d tried beer as well, but she didn’t know if she’d like champagne. She hesitated, taking one glass from Fisk.

“Cheers, Darcy,” he said, gently tapping her flute with his. 

She nodded, putting the glass close to her lips, still unsure.

“Drink, drink,” he said, and she obliged, tipping it back.

It was delicious, all bubbly and light. It seemed like a happy drink. Darcy took a second sip, Fisk chuckling.

“That’s it, I knew you’d like it,” he said.

“Thank you, Wilson,” Darcy murmured, licking her lips. “Thank you so much, for believing in me.”

“Of course, this is only the beginning,” he said, lifting a finger. “More hard work ahead.”

“I won’t let you down,” Darcy said immediately, and she meant it. “I promise.”

“I hope so,” he said, tipping back his glass for another sip. “I’ve been burned before. I just hope we can make something worthwhile, out of all of this.”

Darcy didn’t know how to express her determination any better. She’d spent weeks and weeks living and breathing her work. She’d stopped going out at all, unless it was to work, to perform or to see Fisk. 

“This is my life,” Darcy said, leaning forward, touching his spare hand. “I promise I will work my hardest, I will do whatever it takes.”

“I don’t see you for most of the day is all, Darcy,” he said, his tone shifting to something less warm. It made Darcy’s guts twist. “You could be doing anything, with anyone. You could have a boyfriend you’re keeping secret. You could have another venture you’re pursuing, you could be planning to drop me…”

Darcy’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, never. I promise.”

“You could do something for me, so I know how seriously you’re taking this. So I know my judgments weren’t wrong, about how mature you are.”

Darcy felt her mouth grow dry, her face warming.

“I’m…”

“Come here,” he said, and Darcy didn’t follow. 

She was already sitting next to him on the couch. Her lips parted in confusion. He twisted slightly, placing his champagne aside. He held out his freed hand.

“Give me your drink.”

Darcy obeyed mutely, passing him her champagne. When he turned back, his hands took hers again, his fingers moving down to Darcy’s wrists.

“Come here, Darcy.” 

She meant to say something, but she was too afraid to speak. She didn’t know what was happening, but it felt wrong. She shifted closer to him, one of his giant hands moving up toward her face, cupping her jaw, his eyes sliding up and down her. His hand gripped the side of her face, a little harder than Darcy expected, her heart suddenly in her throat. His fingers were long enough to reach her hair, tugging at it, and Darcy grunted.

Fisk’s other hand went to his belt buckle.

Much later, when Darcy was washing her face in Fisk’s bathroom, she couldn’t feel her feet when she moved around. She couldn’t cry, either. She knew she needed to leave, but making a fuss was somehow worse than what had just transpired. Her nose stung, her eyes had leaked fat tears. Her throat felt bruised. She wished she could turn back the clock, do something different for that to not have happened. Had she indicated some kind of interest by letting him compliment her all the time? She couldn’t reconcile anything, a part of her not even sure if this was real, if any of it had really happened. 

She took the money he offered for a cab fare and went straight home. She lay in her bed, staring at her ceiling, something clawing at her insides. She got up the next morning as though nothing had happened, only announcing to anyone who cared that she’d slept badly, which wasn’t a lie. 

A dread began to creep up on her. She wanted a break from Fisk. She didn’t know how to process the night on the couch. He didn’t come to a performance, the first time in several weeks, but sent a text message apologizing for his absence. Darcy was astounded by how normal he was, too, after what he’d done. She wanted to be angry, but she was mostly just afraid of him. She was terrified of Fisk the entire time she’d known him and not realized, not until it was too late.

She was invited back to his office again a few nights later, her stomach churning. She went because he was the connection to the recording industry. He already had a recording of her singing. Perhaps they could move past this, as long as Darcy kept her distance, made sure it was a purely professional relationship. She could take care of herself, after all. She wasn’t a victim. She never had been.

She should have left when Fisk’s secretary did. She should have made some excuse, that she wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She felt nauseous all day and most of the night. Fisk got up from his desk as Tina left, telling her goodnight. He shut the door and Darcy heard the lock click into place.

She shifted on the couch.

“I should go, I have more songwriting to do.”

“Stay here, we can work on it together,” he replied, a smile forming. 

Darcy faltered, eyes darting to the locked door. “Wilson-”

“I should apologize for how things went the other night,” he said. “I don’t mean to be so selfish.”

That was a very specific way of phrasing that blow job. Darcy stared at him, wondering if he believed his own words, perhaps to live with himself. Maybe he thought she’d coerced him into it, with her womanly hips, full lips and big tits.

She swallowed, her sentence falling away.

“You’re a beautiful young woman and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you,” he said. 

He sat down on the couch, Darcy’s body shifting further away. She knew he noticed by how his face fell.

“Now, how is that supposed to make me feel?” he said.

Darcy’s face flushed. “I- I just meant to make room.”

That didn’t satisfy Fisk, his face twisting with sudden anger.

“I took a risk with you, Darcy. You are not someone anyone has heard of. You could disappear and no-one would notice,” he snapped. “I don’t want this to turn into another time-waster. And now you’re acting as if I’m a monster, after I apologized.”

Darcy knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but he did seem hurt. Maybe his attraction to her was a burden, and he didn’t want any of this to begin with. She remembered then how she’d coughed and struggled the other night but he hadn’t let her go. Her mind was a mess of contradictions. Fisk had cared for her, so why was he doing this?

“You’re not a monster,” she blurted, the only thing she could think to say. 

“I’m sorry for my outburst,” he said, putting up a hand. “But please do not shrink away from me.”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

She shifted back, and they managed to go over some lyrics she’d jotted down during her break at work. Fisk took her pen from her, nodding as he read, and Darcy found herself feeling better, knowing he was pleased. It felt safer when he was happy.

“Excellent,” he murmured, and Darcy gave a little smile. His eyes fell to her mouth. “You truly are a beautiful, talented person, Darcy. I can see you going so far.”

She didn’t expect the kiss he gave her even though he was sitting so close and staring at her mouth. She wanted to kick herself. She didn’t kiss back, too shocked to really respond with her body. She saw him close his eyes and deepen it, her hands still holding the notebook.

He pushed it aside, shifting so he could kiss her neck.

“Wilson,” Darcy breathed, her chest too tight to get enough air in. 

His went to her sides, lowering her further into the seats of the couch. Darcy’s own hands, now turning numb, scrambled to cover Fisk’s.

“Wilson,” she said again, a little clearer. She had to fight to speak. “Please, don’t…”

“Shh,” he whispered, and Darcy had crossed into the other world, the one she’d been avoiding. 

She’d said no, and he wasn’t stopping. He was telling her to be quiet instead, it was going beyond him being selfish or burdened with desire for a teenage girl.

“No,” Darcy said, a little louder. “No, please. Please, no. No!”

Her eyes stung with tears, her hands useless against him. He was too heavy, too large to be moved. She thought of the locked door, how they were completely alone, and she kept wriggling, trying to move from under him.

“Please, no, no, please…”

She kept begging, pleading with him to let her go. Eventually, she stopped speaking, only because her sobs took over.

-

Darcy had been speaking for over an hour non-stop. Her beer, and Steve’s, were long gone. She told him everything. At some point, they’d held hands. She didn’t know whose idea that was, but it didn’t matter. Darcy sniffled but she didn’t cry. 

“It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” she said. Worse than childbirth, because at least she chose that pain. She’d expected it, too.

“Did Brock know, when you met him?” Steve murmured.

Darcy’s eyes met his. “I guess he must have, but at the time I thought he was relatively innocent. Fisk kept it up for months and months. He flew me around with him, didn’t want me anywhere but close to him, to keep an eye on me. It would’ve been impossible to not see he was intensely close to me, even if it wasn’t… sexual.”

Steve drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think other people had to know, like, the big execs at his company,” she murmured. “But no-one did anything, or they just looked the other way. I drank a lot, around that time. I mean, Fisk made me drink a lot. And then he’d turn around and threaten me, told me he’d put me in rehab. He made it sound like it was all my fault. Brock…”

“What about Brock?” Steve murmured. 

“He only started once I was over eighteen, and Fisk was already getting sick of me. Once the album was done, he seemed to move on to other things.”

Darcy bit her lip.

“And Brock, he… he knew what I’d done because he walked in on us, once.”

Darcy could barely remember it, among the series of tortuous months, living day to day like she could be obliterated at any second. Fisk could easily crush her skull with his bare hands. He bragged a lot about the men he’d hurt over the years to get what he wanted. 

“What you’d done?” Steve repeated.

“You still don’t get it,” she murmured. She gave a sad little smile. “To me at the time, it was like he knew then that I’d sold my body to Fisk, for everything I was getting.”

“That’s not what happened, Darcy,” Steve said, squeezing her hand. “He abused you.”

“I know that now, but at the time, I believed him,” Darcy muttered. “And Brock swore he wouldn’t tell anyone. So… Fisk passed me to him.”

Darcy went quiet, her eyes shifting to the closed blinds behind Steve. 

“What time is it?”

“I have no idea,” Steve said, and he took out his phone with his spare hand to check the clock. “Almost two.”

Darcy meant to tell him to leave, but Steve didn’t seem like he meant to move from his spot on the floor, frowning intensely again with concern. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“Did Brock -?”

“Rape me?” Darcy said, and the word was still jarring to her. “No. He used me as a punching bag a lot of the time, but he didn’t do that. To him, it seemed like going _too far_.”

Steve let out a short breath of disgust. “Fucking -”

“It’s okay,” Darcy murmured, and he stopped abruptly, pressing his lips together. “I mean, it’s not, but I’m not with him anymore. I got away.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting back up to Steve’s face. 

“Can I- you can say no…”

“What?” she murmured. “You want a hug?”

He paused, watching her face. “I just…”

Darcy moved toward him, pulling him into an embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around her, his chin tucking into her shoulder. Darcy felt her tears finally begin to well, her throat tightening as he kept her against his chest for more than a minute, breathing with her.

“Does Drax know?” he murmured.

“Not about Fisk,” she whispered. 

“Does anyone know?”

Darcy pulled back, shaking her head. “No. Just you.”

He stared at her, hands slipping down to her waist, his eyes searching her face.

“Why?”

“Because I’m giving you all the warning I can,” she said. “All you need to… assess the risk, I guess.”

A beat, and she glanced down. His hands finally withdrew. 

“Unless I’m misreading this entirely, and I’m just really, really thirsty,” Darcy said, tears falling now but she was attempting a joke, shrugging her shoulders and laughing. “Which can happen with me. You’re _very_ pretty.”

Steve gave a half-smile. “No, you’re not misreading this.”

“But we can’t.”

Steve nodded, looking sadder, drooping a little. “We can’t.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [RAINN](https://www.rainn.org/)   
>  [Rape Crisis Network Europe](https://www.rcne.com/)   
>  [Rape Crisis UK](https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/)   
>  [Reach Out (Australia)](https://au.reachout.com/articles/sexual-assault-support)
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	13. Part Thirteen: Dial tone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating because I wanted to write something today; I'm very unwell these days. My mental health is making me feel as if I'm made entirely of scar tissue. Then I remembered that sometimes writing about fucked up things makes me feel... well, not better, but different. Less of whatever I'm feeling. I'm sorry this isn't great and it's short, but it's there, it's something to read.

**Part Thirteen: Dial tone**

There was a seismic shift between them, and Steve felt it every day more and more, despite the choices he made to keep Darcy at a safer distance. 

When she told him the story of Fisk and how he’d stolen over a year of her life as her abuser. With all this, he’d tried so hard not to diminish anything she’d said, despite wanting to focus on how his stomach fluttered when she acknowledged their mutual attraction. A part of him had suspected it, the drunken half-kiss she’d given him was a little… on the nose, but he’d also thought that he was a tiny, insignificant blip on her radar. She had so many other people to worry about, constantly. She chose to tell him about what she considered the worst of her past, in some attempt to scare him away. 

She need not have bothered. Steve was already keeping her at arm’s length, but he was beginning to ache from the strain of it. Darcy turned out to be stronger than he ever anticipated, and she hadn’t even told him everything about Brock yet. She’d most likely barely scratched the surface, but he wasn’t going to push her into telling him more. It wasn’t his business, and he hadn’t gone searching for this. He never wanted her to do anything that wasn’t her choice to begin with. 

They weren’t alone for several days. There was the thrilling moment when she took his hand when she didn’t need to - she could have just had his hand on her shoulder or arm to guide her through the backway of a stadium before they hopped back on the bus, but she reached for him, her little hand slipping into his. It felt more like a gesture of companionship than something for her security. That night when he was on his back, trying to sleep while Molly was out cold beside him, his mind began to wander. It tended to happen more since he told her out loud that they couldn’t be inappropriate. Of course his mind betrayed him, of course his heart leapt every time she glanced his way, her smile on her face. She had been smiling more, which he loved. Not liked, but loved to see. He slipped out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, shutting the door as he flipped on the light. He grabbed a wad of Kleenex with one hand, his other reaching into his underwear as his eyes shut.

-

“Rum and…?”

Darcy lifted up a second mini bottle of Malibu, a smirk forming on Steve’s face as he glanced down at her. 

“More rum,” he murmured. 

“You judging me?” she said, a little quieter than usual. 

They weren’t alone. The tiny plane was crowded, and Darcy was standing at the minibar by her chair. Steve hadn’t decided what to do with himself yet. Molly and Ellie were on the floor, while Darcy’s team were weaving in and out. They were behind schedule and should have taken off by now, but the airport had been crammed with people waving Darcy goodbye. They were only going to New York for a brief stay, and then they’d be back on tour. At the last minute, the label had arranged for Darcy to do a couple late night talk shows in the wake of the botched interview with Justin Hammer. 

“No,” he murmured.

“I’m a nervous flyer,” Darcy admitted. “Well, I don’t… I don’t like being on planes, the actual process isn’t that scary, I just…”

Her face changed, something passing over her, and she broke open both little bottles and poured them into a small glass and added some lemonade. Steve watched as she sipped it, considering the taste before she frowned.

“That’ll do, it’s kinda tropical,” she said. “Where are you sitting?”

Her question caught him off-guard. She turned her attention to him fully, and not even someone squeezing past them to shove a bag onto the floor was enough to make Darcy break eye contact with Steve.

He remembered waking up that morning hard as a rock, his guilt cresting over him before he slipped into his tiny bathroom to relieve his tension. He was certain she’d begun to invade his dreams, and moments like these in his waking life weren’t helping. 

“Um,” was all he said, unsure.

“Sit with me,” she said, and that was that. He couldn’t say no, and a part of him was glad she made the decision for him. He was supposed to follow her instructions, after all.

A voice in the back of his mind, possibly resembling Nat’s, said:

_How very convenient, Steven, that doing your job means being closer to your crush. How do you live with yourself?_

She fell asleep next to him soon after they took off, and Steve found himself struggling to stay awake as well. He must have dozed off, because he was blinking back reality some time later, feeling a weight on his shoulder, realizing it had to be Darcy.

She was asleep against him, their hands joined as the plane took another little dip. The turbulence must have woken Steve. He glanced over at Wanda, whose phone was pointed at him.

“It was a nice picture, so I took it,” she whispered. 

He should discourage her, tell her to delete it immediately. He should be a wet blanket, dampening any joy Wanda felt on their behalf. Instead, he settled back into his seat, hand still holding Darcy’s. She drew in a breath, Steve keeping still to not wake her. 

Steve didn’t think about the picture too much. He knew there were people speculating weekly about who Darcy was dating. Some theories were completely unfounded. Others mentioned Ian, but Steve liked to think she wasn’t secretly planning to reconcile with him. She hadn’t mentioned him for weeks either way.

-

Steve answered his phone despite it being an unknown number on the display. It was in the middle of a rehearsal, Darcy standing in the center of her circle of dancers. She struck a pose, falling to her knees, back bowing, her dummy mic still brought to her lips. He’d seen the pose countless times before, but it never failed to make him stare. Darcy sat up, the director calling for her to pause and reset, Darcy’s skin covered with a sheen of sweat, some of her hair sticking to her face. She pushed it away, laughing at something Carol said, Steve putting his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

No response, not for the first few seconds. They dragged on and on, Darcy on her feet again, laughing and moving back to her first marker further away from Steve. 

“How long have you been fucking her?”

He knew that voice. It was Brock. Steve didn’t know how he got this number, but a man of his influence would certainly know a lot of people in low places to do shady shit. Steve bit his lip.

“Who am I speaking to?”

“Soldier boy, I’m telling you now that she is not yours to touch, alright?”

Steve wasn’t afraid of Brock, he didn’t think he could hurt him. He was afraid of Brock flexing those sadistic muscles at Darcy instead. If anything happened to her, that would be unforgivable. Steve grit his jaw.

He must have seen the photo Wanda put up on Instagram. He’d pretended not to notice it himself, but he saw Darcy had liked the picture. Some fans had speculated about who he was, and whether he was someone worth noting. He hadn’t had anyone contact him about it until today.

“If you fuck her, you’re dead, Rogers. You got that?” 

Had this man threatened Ian, or any other of Darcy’s actual boyfriends?

“Sir, yes, sir,” Steve muttered, deadpan. 

Brock let out a harsh chuckle and hung up. Steve looked down at his phone, rolling his lip between his teeth, his spare hand balled into a fist. He sucked in a breath and did his best to push it aside. 

He glanced over at Darcy, who was drinking from her water bottle, giggling. 

How could anyone want to hurt her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "don't fuck her" lmao it's going to happen in like, maybe two chapters from now if I can be bothered with the mutual pining much longer
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	14. Part Fourteen: Ringtone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this part is just straight up mean, you deserve to know

**Part Fourteen: Ringtone**

Steve didn’t tell Darcy about the phone call with Brock. He didn’t want to add to the pile of worries. There were sometimes whole days dedicated to petty little things he never knew a performer had to deal with. Every little piece of her was tightly controlled, it was no wonder that she was always groggy in the mornings, though he found it adorable. 

They were a few days out from being in Vegas, and from what Steve had overheard over the last several weeks, her shows were meant to be a pseudo-audition for more shows, and possibly even a residency spot in the future. Steve knew it meant insurmountable pressure on her, and he hoped she’d take the days off she’d been offered by the label. He didn’t know what that meant for Ellie, or whether he’d be pushed aside for Darcy to have true privacy out in the desert. 

She didn’t seem inclined to get rid of him. She was quite the opposite, actually, turning up her playfulness by each degree as the days went on. She held his hand automatically when they traveled from stadiums to secure vehicles. She insisted Molly stayed in her dressing room each night she performed. Ellie was spending more time playing with Steve and he kept noticing Darcy smiling at them in the background. 

He knew reality was always just outside their doorway. It didn’t help that his friends were a little too nosy. Bucky FaceTimed him one night when he was outside her dressing room, waiting while she undressed and Wanda cleaned her up. Steve suspected Bucky was having trouble sleeping and wanted to kill time, and he probably hadn’t expected Steve to pick up. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered. He had his earphones in, his eyes darting to someone walking down the hallway. He’d only have a little while before Darcy would need to be taken back to the hotel. 

“How’s it going, punk?”

“Pretty good, considering-”

Darcy appeared out of nowhere and Steve went still, his surprise most likely on his face by how Bucky began to chuckle in his ear. Darcy glanced down at the phone, and Steve promptly took the earphones out. She grinned at Bucky.

“Hi, baby daddy.”

It was a miracle - Bucky was rendered speechless for a few seconds, his eyes widening at the sight of Darcy’s face looming over him. She was sweaty and glowing, her low-cut witchy dress still on, but her makeup was scrubbed away. 

“When are you coming to one of my shows, Bucky?” she said, brow furrowing a little.

“Uh, soon, sweetheart,” he replied, and Steve bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud.

He’d never seen Bucky so taken aback before. 

“Okay, baby. I’ll see you soon,” Darcy said, motioning blowing a kiss. She glanced up at Steve, their eyes meeting. “If Steve wants to share.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Bucky said, and Darcy gave him one last grin.

“Take care, say hi to Nat for me,” she said. 

She promptly walked away, Steve staring after her. He plugged the earphones back in, his eyes finally drifting back to Bucky below.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” he began, and Bucky made a face.

“It’s harmless - oh, shit. No, it’s not,” he said, eyes going wider again. “Oh, man. Steve.”

“Don’t,” Steve muttered. “I can’t…”

He didn’t know how he was meant to talk about it to anyone else. With Brock, it was easy. Darcy’s ex already assumed he was sleeping with her, or that he wanted to. With Bucky and Nat, it was harder to play it all off. He knew he was in too deep. He didn’t want anyone else pointing it out. It made it seem more pathetic.

Belatedly, he observed Darcy had remembered Bucky and Nat’s names, when he’d probably only mentioned them both once in her presence. He felt his stomach somersault as he passed a hand over his face.

“She likes you,” Bucky said, after a long pause. Steve shook his head, eyes elsewhere.

“I don’t think it’s something I can even… talk about,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. You got it bad?”

Steve swallowed, suddenly paranoid he’d be overheard somehow, though no-one was paying any attention to him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, real bad.”

-

Steve seemed distant. Darcy sensed it immediately when she got out of the dressing room finally. She knew her little stunt with his friend was an empty joke, but perhaps she’d crossed some line. She used to talk to Drax’s wife sometimes, but she’d only ever treated Darcy like she was this untouchable goddess. It was disconcerting. 

Bucky, though very embarrassed and dumbstruck, hadn’t fallen over himself to flatter her. Steve was the same. 

She took his hand, pretending that he was her date walking her back to her car, and then she was up the steps to the bus and sat down, eyes searching for Steve. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, he was completely silent, his eyes on the floor as everyone else followed them. They had another half hour before they got back to the hotel, and the entire time she was restless with worry. 

She was anxious to get back to Ellie, just to put her to bed, only so she’d get back to Steve faster. She didn’t like how her heart was pulling, snagging on some hurt she was afraid she was about to feel. She didn’t even know what he could possibly do.

She shut the door to Ellie’s room, walking back out into her main area, before going to the front door, seeing him standing by the doorway, head bent, hands folded together.

“Could you come in for a sec?” she murmured.

He didn’t say a word, only followed her through. She stopped abruptly, spinning to look up at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” he said instantly, a little frown forming. He swallowed, eyes slipping down to the floor. 

“Is it Bucky, did I - did I make an ass of myself, or something? I was obnoxious.”

“No,” Steve said. His eyes locked with hers. “No, I promise.”

“Are you jealous?”

She blurted the question, her stomach fluttering. She felt like she was in middle school all over again, every moment between them amplified because it was so tame compared to her other blatantly sexual relationships. She still had multiple men in her DMs, some of which she’d left on read ever since Germany. Others, she’d only replied to politely decline. None of them were what she was looking for, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. 

“Yes,” he said, after a brief silence, everything so charged that Darcy’s face began to burn. 

The admission made Darcy stare back at him. She was afraid of looking away from him. She took a step closer, reaching for him, Steve going still.

“You’re not gonna touch me?” she murmured, and he shook his head. “Do you want me to stop touching you all the time?” 

“You’re tactile, it’s fine-”

“No, Steve,” Darcy cut in. “I only want to touch you.”

She took one of his hands between her two, brushing her thumb against his knuckles for a few seconds. She then lifted his hand, placing it against her face, her eyes swinging up to his. Her heart hammered. 

She finally figured it out. He was the only man she’d ever trusted this way. It wasn’t just because she was attracted to him. His quiet power was never terrifying to her. It was his ability to see every part of her each day, it was how he preserved her dignity with a chivalry she’d never known. He went beyond what Drax had ever done. 

The warmth of his hand was all she could feel, trying her best to breathe normally, watching Steve for cues. He could rip his hand away. She wouldn’t blame him. 

He slowly pulled away from her, taking a step back, his hands balling into fists. They were standing in her overpriced hotel room in the middle of the night. So many things had to go wrong, and to go right, for them to reach this particular place together. 

She knew then that she wouldn’t change anything, if it meant being close to him, whatever that was. Whatever he’d allow.

He took a sudden stride forward and Darcy froze, both of his hands now on her face, tilting her head up to his. He bent down to kiss her, a hungry kiss that was undeniable. Their mouths slanted together and she felt his tongue slip in to meet hers, a needy glide to it. They swayed a little, Darcy hearing him take a deep breath through his nose. The taste of him, his warm lips on hers, was intoxicating. This was all just kissing. What would it be like if she touched him for real? She’d pictured it often enough. 

They kissed until she needed air, pulling back to gulp it, their foreheads together. They were both panting, Darcy’s hands on his chest to steady herself. 

The look he gave her was enough to feel like a punch to the guts. He was torn, he was so beside himself in that moment that Darcy knew she’d done something unforgivable. 

He was still holding her for several seconds as they tried to catch their breaths. Then he swallowed, stepping back, hands dropping. Darcy felt her heart swoop down-

He was back again, folding into it, a soft groan before their lips met in the middle:

“Fuck.”

Darcy held his face this time, and it was gentler, and somehow more hurtful. When she broke away, she found herself nodding, understanding. 

“I know,” she whispered. He couldn’t keep his conscience clear if anything else happened. 

It might be a mistake, but she didn’t regret it. She tried her best to believe he didn’t feel the same way, but the way his hands stroked her hair and back when he pulled her into a hug wasn’t helping. 

He kissed her forehead.

“You should go,” Darcy whispered.

“Yeah.”

He walked out, Darcy holding her breath until he was out of sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to burst into tears, her eyes already smarting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time, Nevada and miles and miles of desert
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)  
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	15. Part Fifteen: Day 'n' Nite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my anxiety and PTSD are making me constantly on the verge of tears these days so instead of crying I'm just going to aggressively daydream in the meantime and write constantly, okay? okay
> 
> also, Kastle is canon, I'm making it canon, like stfu
> 
> ALSO wow nsfw, it's finally happening

**Part Fifteen: Day 'n' Nite**

“Who told him? Who? Who is it?”

Darcy looked like she was ready to punch a hole in the wall. She hands balled into fists, her eyes wild with fury, glaring up at one of her tour managers. Steve had been standing in the hallway during their meeting. They’d only landed in Vegas thirty minutes ago, Darcy a more bouncy version of herself. They hadn’t spoken about the other night, when they’d made out in her hotel room before Steve ran away. 

“Who is it?”

Her manager put up a hand, trying to calm her. “We don’t know.”

“Someone fucking told him!” she retorted. Her personal phone was in one hand. 

She turned her heel, stalking off, Steve falling into step with her. Wanda met them along the way, her brows knitting together. 

“What happened?” she murmured.

“Someone told Brock I’m auditioning for residency,” Darcy muttered, and Wanda’s eyes grew wide.

“What?”

Steve felt anger lick at his insides, wanting to find Brock and flatten him against a wall. He pictured punching him often enough, especially when he called Darcy to speak with their daughter. He hadn’t seen Ellie for a few weeks, and Steve replayed the phone call he got several days ago over and over. 

“He’ll try to take Ellie from me,” Darcy said. 

Wanda shook her head, stalking arm and arm with Darcy down the corridor, Steve watching every person they came across. This new information about her ex made him believe danger could be lurking anywhere. He still didn’t know how the guy managed to get his number. 

“That won’t happen,” Wanda said, somewhat belatedly. 

Steve didn’t think it was his place to say anything, but he already knew what he’d do if Brock managed to break into wherever Darcy was. If he spent a second outside of the court arrangements they had, Steve would be fired for what he’d do to Brock. 

Every time he thought of Fisk, his mind would turn blank, too. He didn’t know where to put his anger. He knew how Darcy was acting now was completely called for. 

“You need time off, everyone’s saying it,” Wanda went on. 

They burst into the mid-morning sun, Darcy’s sunglasses lowered, Wanda copying her. 

Steve stepped in front of them to escort them back to the hired car, their driver nodding as they approached. 

“I know,” Darcy muttered, distracted. 

Steve slipped into the passenger seat, his eyes swiveling to Darcy’s in the rearview mirror as they pulled away from the curb. She’d stopped looking away first whenever their eyes met those days. It was as if pretending he didn’t want her was a joke to her, now. 

He knew that was fair. He’d acted like a jackass. He didn’t have to kiss her, but he had, and then he’d walked out without an explanation. He only said nothing to her because he couldn’t lie. 

The radio in the car was playing Kid Cudi. Steve’s eyes shifted to the traffic ahead of them, Wanda murmuring to Darcy about the show tonight and how she only had one more to go, and she’d be okay, she’d put her feet up. She threatened forcing her to relax, but Darcy was silent, not playing along. Steve felt a familiar ache, knowing he was powerless to what troubled her daily. He couldn’t take away any of it, or change it. If anything, he probably contributed to her angst. 

-

That night in the arena Darcy performed at, no-one in the audience would know the pain she was going through by how she was behaving. The show was immaculate, and she was nothing but charming and professional throughout the entire night. 

This wasn’t the audition performance, though the news outlets had deemed it so. The semi-official audition was meant to be in a few days at another venue. This arena was a good indication of what Darcy was capable of on a grander scale, the more intimate casino performance coming up was meant to be the clincher for her residency.

Molly and Ellie both sat in Darcy’s dressing room for once, Ellie’s nanny Colleen still there while Darcy worked. Steve knew Darcy had requested her daughter was there because she was anxious about Brock, and he didn’t know when she would be able to feel safer about her daughter. 

Darcy’s manager and the tour creative director came by at the end of the night as Darcy was undressing and taking off her makeup. They tried to move past Steve as though they were entitled to it, Steve’s eyes meeting theirs as he cut them off. 

“We need to see her about something, buddy,” her manager said. “Her producer is asking after her.”

“She can call him later,” Steve said. 

He knew it wasn’t part of his job description to shield her from responsibilities, but he was compelled to now. 

“Steve, it’s alright, let them in,” Darcy called. 

He stepped aside, the creative director smirking. 

“Stand down, son.”

Steve watched them slip by, his body tense and he heard them switch on the charm, Darcy greeting them with a tiredness she covered with a soft laugh. The door shut and Steve was barred, eyes on the floor as he waited. He did a lot of waiting for her, but he didn’t mind, that was to be expected from his job. He’d had far worse jobs, and this was ranked among the best. 

Molly was shoved out the door and Steve glanced back at the doorway to see it slam in his face again, the dog licking her chops and huffing on the floor beside him.

It was another ten minutes before the door opened again and Darcy was walking out, head down, Ellie in her arms. Steve fell into step with her, not waiting for any context as to why she was in such a hurry. They weaved through corridors, picking up some of Darcy’s people along the way. They stepped into the night, Steve in front of her, shielding her from the crowd that gathered outside the arena. They sped toward the bus, Darcy ducking in first to retreat. 

Her arms stayed curled around Ellie as the rest of the team piled in, Steve’s eyes never leaving her. Darcy’s eyes were closed, her nose buried in Ellie’s tiny shoulder. 

She was rarely like this in front of other people, Steve noted. Something serious must have happened, but she didn’t want to tell him yet. 

You’re not her boyfriend, he thought. He wasn’t supposed to know everything about her life. This was only a job. His first mistake was wanting to know her at all.

-

The label had demanded a new single be shared as soon as possible. Though her shows were selling out all over the country, they were greedy, wanting to add more, to make more money. Darcy was already meant to go to Europe months from now, but the label was concerned they’d lose traction by the time she got there. 

Steve learned from Wanda that her last tour had made close to 100 million dollars, and he figured now that they only saw that as a good start. 

All of this he only picked up by eavesdropping on conversations in the next half an hour as the bus sped toward the next hotel. Darcy was meant to sleep there tonight and then have the next three days off, but the location of her next bed wasn’t disclosed to Steve yet. Darcy’s cards were so close to her chest he felt like she was slipping away from him in little increments, her head bent as she texted on her phone, Ellie dozing in her arms. 

When Colleen took her back, Darcy looked guilty, stroking Ellie’s face and kissing her, Steve standing behind her in the corridor. Colleen gave her a little smile and disappeared into one of the hotel rooms, Wanda lingering, holding Darcy’s hand. 

“You okay if I go?” she murmured. Darcy nodded. 

“She’s gonna be a mess tomorrow,” she whispered, referring to Ellie. “I’m a terrible mother.”

“No, you’re not,” Wanda whispered, and she pulled her into a hug. 

Steve looked away, feeling intrusive. Wanda and Darcy whispered, Darcy nodding in Steve’s peripheral vision. He rubbed his head, waiting as the women separated, Wanda taking a step back, lifting her head. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” she said, and he nodded.

“Night.”

She walked away, her bag swinging, Darcy watching her go. She turned to Steve when they were alone in the corridor.

“I’ve got three days off, but I’m working,” she said, giving a little shrug. Her eyes dipped a little. “I have to make… something beautiful happen.”

“Am I allowed to point out how unfair this situation is?” Steve said, and she glanced back up, frowning a little. “Or will it just make you more annoyed?”

“You can complain, I like to complain,” she murmured. There was the barest hint of a smile on her lips. “It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

He felt his own lips quirk and he nodded. “It’s bullshit, that you have to do that for the label. They’re working you too hard.”

“I get paid _a lot_ of money.”

“Money doesn’t pay for sleep, or rest,” Steve retorted, and Darcy’s brows lifted a little.

“Interesting take, I’ll remember that one.”

She fell into step with him, moving further down the corridor, taking out a keycard for her own hotel room. She unlocked the door, glancing up at Steve.

“I’m going to a house, it’s a friend of a friend’s place in Hendersen,” she murmured. “It’s isolated, five acres.”

“Which friend?”

“Frank Castle, he’s my agent’s boyfriend,” she said. “I trust him, but you can look him up if you want-”

“No, I…” Steve trailed off. He was surprised she was telling him all this, after what happened. “Are you going tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m leaving Ellie here, I need time alone. I know it’s not possible, but I need it in whatever way I can take it.”

She paused, finally opening her door. 

“So you better rest up, you’re coming with me,” she said.

Steve felt his stomach flip. “You didn’t want to hire someone else?”

“No,” she said. “I want you.”

She glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. It didn’t feel like she was only implying things anymore. She waited for him, perhaps to argue, but he only pressed his lips together, nodding. 

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She disappeared, shutting her door behind her. In the silence of his solitude, Steve stared at his shoes, wondering how he was supposed to sleep that night. 

-

The property looked like it had been carved into the hill it occupied. It was perfect for what Darcy needed. She opened her passenger door, slamming it shut as she glanced over her shoulder at Steve, who’d already stepped out to inspect the view. 

They could see the strip from there, and she was reminded of how close Ellie actually was. From everything she’d learned in the last couple days, Brock was nowhere near Nevada. He was still hanging around New York, having last visited Ellie’s namesake yesterday. She knew not disclosing where she’d gone with Steve, as well as the location of their daughter meant she’d have the upper hand. It might be paranoia spurring her on, but at least Steve didn’t imply that though he’d had many opportunities to as they drove over there.

Colleen was staying in another hotel and would come straight there if Darcy wanted Ellie to be near. Molly was with them, not-so subtly guarding Ellie as they left that morning. 

Darcy was supposed to be relaxing, but her abdomen had been tensed the entire trip over, her hands never leaving her water bottle she kept capping and uncapping compulsively. Every time her phone buzzed she imagined something terrifying having happened, but it was only ever a work email or a text message. 

Frank checked in as they were pulling up:

_**Get there okay?** _

Darcy replied in rapidfire: 

_**Yeah. Do you have a baseball bat somewhere?** _

_**Don’t you have a bodyguard for that?**_ Frank replied. 

She did, and Steve kept looking over at her, checking her. She motioned toward the house. 

“I’m gonna grab my bag and head in.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Steve,” she added, and he paused, brows knitting together. “There’s an alarm system, motion-activated sensors, cameras.”

“I know,” he said with a nod. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation since last night. “I’d still like to check the place out.”

Frank’s house was on short stilts, with wall to ceiling windows, a grand piano in a corner, a bar sitting behind it. Darcy moved around the counter, stooping to open a small fridge. It was stocked with champagne and she popped a bottle, managing to not spill too much as she poured herself a glass. She sipped it, watching Steve through the window as he peered around. She raised her glass to him when he caught her staring, and he ducked his head, self-conscious. 

-

She sat at the piano, fingers gliding over keys as she played idle notes, her notebook open. She had some lyrical ideas, but the composition was eluding her. Steve sat on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, Darcy’s concentration waning. 

“I have to make something beautiful,” she whispered, more to herself than him. She swallowed, glancing out the window. 

“I’m sure it will be,” Steve said. 

He hadn’t spoken in some time. He was quieter than usual. She knew he was trying to keep himself between being too close and safely distant from her. 

She thought about giving up, settling next to him on the couch and watching a movie, but she knew the longer she put this off, the harder it would be to commit to a tune. She played the same dull note over and over. 

“Why do you say that?” she asked, her question sudden in the silence. 

“You’re talented,” he said, and she frowned a little, still not looking his way.

“Talent isn’t enough. If I was gorgeous and sold more records, then maybe my talent would count for something…”

She sighed. 

“I have to make something gorgeous, so I’m given the space to perform, to exist,” she muttered. She didn’t like how morose she sounded, but she was being her most honest then. She needed to offer something to everyone she met, she couldn’t be herself. It wasn’t how fame worked. She was known for certain things. Being anyone else made her useless, forgettable, unmarketable.

“That’s not true,” Steve said, and she gave a little smile that lacked mirth, shrugging. 

She trailed her fingertip from one end of the piano to the other, a crescendo of notes filling the silence. She shot up from her seat, swiping up her glass of champagne. It was the same one as before, she’d been nursing it while she tried to write her dumb little song. 

“I’m hungry.”

-

She made dinner, a couple plates of pasta. She hadn’t cooked in weeks, but she felt she did okay. Steve was quiet as they ate together in the kitchen, the sun having set. Darcy kept checking her phone, seeing Colleen give her little updates. Ellie had a pretty uneventful day, and Molly had been by her side the entire time. 

Darcy kept looking at Steve, imagining their circumstances were different, that he was there out of choice and not because of his job. Would he even know her if she wasn’t famous? She considered it highly unlikely. 

She pretended while they ate that this was a common occurrence, that she was a girlfriend that cooked for him and they ate together in companionable silence. 

She took his empty dish away and he murmured:

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, and she took them out to the kitchen. 

She returned to Steve, picking up her phone. 

“I’m going to soak in the tub for a while and go to bed. Don’t wait up for me.”

He nodded, but she knew he would stay awake regardless, wanting to make sure she was safe. He had an alert on his phone, a small monitor on his person at all times in case there was a trespasser. Darcy was still quietly fuming over the leak, whoever it was, among the people that knew she was gunning for the Vegas position. 

Whoever it was, they were in Brock’s pocket, and Darcy needed to find them and snuff them out. She didn’t know where to begin with that, but she was supposed to be trying to let some of that go while she had time off. She knew it was futile, her guts twisting every time she thought of Ellie, too. She knew having Molly there helped more than she could ever convey to Steve.

She glanced out the window of the bathroom where her tub was filling, her eyes scanning the lights of the strip she could make out. She sighed, settling on the edge of the bath as she waited.

-

Darcy settled into the pillows of the king size bed of the main bedroom, sighing as she tried to close her eyes. Her phone was put aside on a charger. Her guitar that she’d brought in from the car was sitting against the far wall. She hadn’t got any further with her lyrics, or the composition. 

She kept thinking of Steve being in the house. She kept letting her mind wander, her stomach fluttering. She was blinking up at the ceiling, aware that she was wide awake. 

She’d been in the tub for an hour, refilling it again and again. She’d done a face mask, her entire skincare routine. She’d answered emails and tried to tune out the world, but she was still aware of Steve’s presence. She’d never be truly alone, unless she waved a magic wand and was no longer famous. She drew in a breath, and then heard a soft yawn from beyond. 

He was still awake. It was after ten PM, and maybe the tour had caught up with him, too. He was operating on as little sleep as her, usually. 

She sat up, pulling the blanket off her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet met the floor and she stood, holding her breath. Her heart began to race as she propelled herself forward, slipping out of her bedroom, leaving her door ajar. 

She moved down the hallway, seeing Steve’s door was left open, her hand pushing it further open. She heard him draw in a breath, knowing she was heading toward his bed. 

He was silent as she approached his side, seeing the shape of him in the dark, her heart pounding, and she took the plunge, throwing her leg over, the mattress creaking as she climbed on top of him, hands reaching-

She took hold of his face, her hands slipping up from his chest, and she leaned down to kiss him, Steve’s breath hitching. It was better than the last time, because she knew what it felt like to kiss him. The anticipation made her a flurry of nerves, but she was so eager, her tongue in his mouth, stroking his as she felt his hands find her waist.

She kissed him until she needed air, and then she was reaching to the side, flipping on the lamp on his bedside table. The room was flooded with a warm yellow glow, Steve’s eyes shining up at her, Darcy’s arms crossing to pull off her shirt and toss it aside.

His eyes ducked and he launched himself at her, sucking her nipple into his mouth, Darcy’s moan slipping out, her hand finding the back of his head, fingers gliding through his fuzzy hair. He cupped her other breast, moving his mouth to it with a sigh, Darcy’s nipples hardened, her hips rocking against his as he kissed and sucked at her skin.

His eyes swiveled to meet hers, the lust in his eyes unmistakable, his lips pink and wet.

“Darcy…”

She kissed him again, Steve taking over, cupping her face and sucking the breath out of her, everything so dizzying in the thrill of his touch. It felt like this was how she was supposed to be touched, with a reverence she’d never experienced before. She wasn’t performing, she wasn’t thinking of anything else. All she wanted was him, in every way, all at once.

He pulled away, shuffling down, lying flat on his back, arms wrapped around her thighs and craning his head, mouth moving up her leg. Darcy’s hand found the back of his head again as Steve moved his lips along the damp material of her underwear, his tongue grazing the bud of her clit, Darcy’s appreciative grunt falling from her lips before she could censor it.

He teased her over the material for a while, his eyes closed, his long lashes against his cheeks. She could make out the dust of freckles along his nose, her eyes beginning to flutter shut as he sucked at her, Darcy’s hips rocking of their own accord.

She couldn’t keep the moans inside, beginning to shiver with pleasure, Steve pulling back, hands slipping down to meet where his mouth had been, thumb rubbing over the cut of her.

“Let’s take these off,” he whispered, and Darcy nodded, dazed and pliant.

She shifted, tugging them down. She knew he meant to dive back in again, skin to his lips, but she was reaching under the blanket to yank down his underwear, Steve hastily helping her. 

He kissed the side of her face, Darcy staring down at his body, bare and beautiful, the curves and sharp edges of him all hers to see and touch, her throat bobbing.

“Wow,” she whispered. 

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his lap, pressing their foreheads together.

“You okay?” he whispered. She nodded. “You want this?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Fuck, yeah…”

He kissed her, taking a deep breath through his nose, their bodies shifting, Darcy sucking in a breath as she made her descent. 

He stretched her so immaculately that she was shivering again, going still when her ass met the cradle of his hips, her arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady herself.

She’d wanted this for so long. Not just Steve, but someone who could make sex feel this way. She pulled back to look him in the eye.

“You okay?” he whispered. 

“I swear,” she whispered back. “And I’m better than okay.”

She gave another sigh as he began to move, pushing up into her, drawing his knees up for better leverage, the angle so deep Darcy couldn’t keep quiet, her nails digging into his skin, her chest to his as she whimpered in his ear.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Please, fuck me-”

He planted his foot and spun her around, her back meeting the mattress, her next moan ripped from her as he slammed into her, tilting her head up for another searing kiss.

When she came, his hand was between them, pressing her clit as Darcy’s back arched off the bed. She cried out, his face buried in her neck. He pulled back to look at her, Darcy beginning to laugh, and he joined her.

“What the fuck, you feel so amazing,” she whispered, still giggling. 

“You feel better, sweetheart,” he whispered, and she shook her head. 

When Steve came, he made the most incredible sound, a broken moan in her ear as he drove into her, their chest pressed together, Darcy’s legs resting on his shoulders. He lost momentum, shoving as deep into her as possible, the air punched out of her. 

He kept kissing her, panting like she was, their skin glowing with sweat in the lamplight. He reached for her hand when she got up from the bed to clean up.

“Come back here.”

“Just a second,” she whispered.

It was hard to walk. It was harder to stop herself from smiling like a fool.

She returned to his side, seeing his eyes were closed as he dozed. She lifted his arm and folded him back over her, settling her back against his chest. Steve shifted, his hand finding her hip to squeeze it, before he took her hand, threading their fingers together. 

He pressed a kiss into the side of her face, Darcy’s stomach flipping again and again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	16. Part Sixteen: Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut, angst and fluff only, no plot ❤

**Part Sixteen: Whisper**

She was ignoring every doubt in her mind. She’d trained herself over years and years, to never take a man’s nice words at face value, to always believe that things that were good were always too good to be true. With Steve, her brain was pushing aside the worries, the suspicions she’d felt toward everyone who’d come before him, everyone that came after Fisk and Brock. 

She tried to sleep through the night, but Darcy’s body was used to waking at dawn, either because of the tour or Ellie. She rose her head a little, glancing around Steve’s bedroom, remembering what happened, a pleasant warmth growing in her belly. 

“Go back to sleep,” she heard him whisper. His nose brushed her throat, Darcy’s lips curling in a smile as she recalled they were both naked, feeling the warmth of him right behind her. 

“Well, _you’re_ up now,” she retorted, and he chuckled. 

She rolled onto her back, their eyes meeting, his hand coming up to brush the hair from her face, leaning on one of his elbows to look down at her. Darcy drew in a breath, smiling at him. 

“I’m not going back to sleep just yet,” she whispered. 

She leaned up, catching his lip between her two, Steve’s soft chuckle muffled, and he was pressing her into the mattress, Darcy’s thigh hitching over his bare hip. She rubbed his cheek with her fingers, feeling the bristles that had grown there in the night. She’d never seen him with a hint of facial hair before, the shadow he would shave every morning before she saw him. 

He turned his head a little to kiss her palm, his eyes shining down at her. 

“Hey, come here,” he whispered, and Darcy was grinning up at him, Steve kissing her cheeks and lips, trailing down her neck to her chest.

When he buried his face between her legs, he pinned Darcy’s hands to her hips, squeezing her hands as Darcy’s breath caught in her throat, her head falling back as her eyes fluttered shut. 

He was so good. She suspected as much last night with the barrier of her underwear in his way. His movements were eager but unhurried, he spent time down there, mapping out every shape of her, Darcy’s pleasure slowly climbing higher, her heels digging into the mattress as her hand lay on the back of his head.

She didn’t like this, usually. Men going down on her were often triggering. It made her feel too vulnerable, too open to touch. It was a highly sensitive area, at a man’s mercy. Steve, on the other hand, was capable and compliant in ways no-one else had been with her. If she told him to stop, he wouldn’t pout or argue. He watched her, checking in with her with his eyes meeting hers. Darcy only nodded, moaning as he suckled at her clit, his fingers dipping into her, crooking toward him, Darcy’s body gripping him in turn. 

The first time he made her come that morning, Darcy felt the warm pleasure bloom from her core like a long throb to the far edges of her, Steve lapping at her, the sounds almost as loud as Darcy’s deep moan. She shuddered, her thighs quivering on either side of his head. She gulped the air, flopping down again, blinking up at the ceiling. She didn’t know how long he’d been down there, but he seemed adamant in remaining there, kissing her thigh again, a less sensitive area. He nibbled and Darcy gave a breath of a laugh, passing a hand over her face. 

“Steve…”

“Please,” he murmured, and she felt her blush deepen. He was right, he was intense, in ways that would cause her to call ‘bullshit’ if he were anyone else. She believed him, that he wanted her that much, to taste her and make her come again, licking and sucking at her secret parts, Darcy’s body already feeling wrung out. 

She nodded, her eyes feeling heavier, Steve’s lips moving to her center again. She gave a little mewl, a sound she never thought a man would cause her to make, when he latched onto her clit again. 

It was harder to come the second time, or, Steve had to work a little longer to get her there, re-doubling his efforts, Darcy’s hips moving against him, his fingers tucked inside her, dragging back and forth as Darcy pushed his face into her crotch. 

She made a sound like she was choking, her eyes smarting from the effort, everything lifting up again, her limbs turning to liquid.

She yelled.

“Fuck!”

She panted, taking her hand away from his skull to try to reach for his shoulders. She wanted him buried inside her, but she was trembling, everything too much…

“I think I’m blind,” she gasped, and then she was laughing, near-hysterical, Steve’s face settling on her hip to recover, his mouth glistening as he clung to her. 

He was laughing, too, breathless and cuddling her legs, which were still shaking, the bedroom beginning to shift back into place. She’d seen spots at the edge of her vision, her pores having opened up all over her skin. 

“You got more for me?” he whispered, and she shook her head, her laughter turning weak. 

He climbed up her, Darcy’s arms looping around his neck, Steve covered in her musk, his cheeks blotched with color. Darcy sighed, the bulk of him resting against her, Steve’s nose in her hair as they kept panting together. 

-

“We should get up,” he murmured, hours later.

Darcy had fallen asleep, woken to check her phone and fell asleep again. It was after ten AM now, the sun high in the sky, her ear on Steve’s chest as it rose and fell with his breathing. 

“We should,” she agreed, but she made no move to leave him, blinking slowly, her finger drawing little shapes in his bare skin. 

He shifted, kissing her hair. 

“Darcy, you need coffee.”

“No, I need you,” she retorted. 

He chuckled, somewhat disbelieving. “Again? Already?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and she tilted her head up, vaguely aware of being a rumpled mess on top of him, Steve’s hand having pushed her mane from out of her line of vision some time ago. 

He drew in a breath, looking as sleepy as Darcy felt, squeezing her shoulder and kissing her forehead, Darcy’s stomach fluttering. 

“Coffee first,” he murmured. 

He pulled back, gently unpeeling her from his front, shuffling out of her grip to sit up. Darcy watched as he put on his underwear and sweatpants, twisting around to look down at her.

“Coffee coming right up.”

Instead of waiting in bed like a queen, Darcy quickly followed him, slipping her hand into his when she reached him in the kitchen. She was wearing her shirt from last night, but no underwear. She was trying to forget how cold the air was, a little shiver running through her as she followed Steve around. 

She wasn’t like this, ever. She wanted to be glued to him, to savor this time together. She had two more days there, but she knew they’d fly by like yesterday. The morning was already more than half gone. 

Her arms wrapped around him as she hugged him from behind, Steve investigating the cupboards for a couple mugs. Darcy pressed a kiss into his bare back, leaning against him as he switched on the machine, shoved a pod in and pressed some buttons. The machine whirred, Steve turning on the spot, leaning down to kiss Darcy’s forehead again, hand reaching to cup her jaw. She held his wrist, his lips trailing down her face, kisses pressed to her nose, her eyelid and cheek before he finally reached her lips again, Darcy smiling into it.

The coffee sat for a good minute while he kissed her. Steve kissed as though he hadn’t had enough of it last night, or that morning so far. Darcy sensed he felt the same way, their time together was precious. Soon, she’d be back on the road and getting a handful of hours of sleep each night, running herself into the ground. And then she’d be trying to keep Ellie safe on top of that, while trying to write her next album, promote herself constantly…

“You okay?” he murmured, cutting through her racing thoughts. 

She’d pulled away from him and stared at a space behind them. Steve cupped her face, searching her. 

“Thinking too much,” she murmured. 

She shoved him, changing gears, backing him into the stove. She dropped to her knees, her hands working the waistband of his sweatpants to shove the material down, her hand reaching inside to stroke. She found him half-hard already, Steve’s lips parting as she dove in, taking him as far down as she could at that angle, Steve biting back a groan. 

She was a little rougher than he’d been with her, sucking and licking at him, her head bobbing as Steve’s hand moved down to grip her shirt, the material tugged taut as Darcy gave him everything. 

Her eyes were watering, her jaw aching, Steve’s thighs shaking as she kept at it. She was losing air, but it was worth it to hear him try to keep himself in check. She tasted each new burst of precome, pulling back for air, studying his cock intently. Steve was breathing heavier, stooping to reach her, pulling her up by her arms. He kissed her hard, Darcy surprised by how possessive it was. He meant to devour her, before he surprised her again, spinning her around, pushing her into the countertop. He pushed her shirt further up, Darcy’s bare ass exposed fully.

“Coffee can wait,” he rasped, tucking inside her. 

They both grunted at the feel of him stretching her, filling her slowly but so completely that Darcy’s mouth fell open, Steve’s hips meeting her ass. 

He fucked her slow at first, until Darcy’s whimpering was too much for him, and he was set off, tugging her backward for a kiss as he propped her further upward, her feet actually leaving the floor. Darcy’s legs grew stiff as her whole body _sang_ , coming with an outright growl as Steve never let up. 

-

“What was your mom’s name?” Darcy asked. 

They were lying side by side, Darcy playing with his hand, her thumb tracing the heel of it. Occasionally she squeezed a fingertip gently, peering down at them. 

He couldn’t get over how she was acting, inspecting his body, the parts of him she hadn’t touched before. She seemed to only want to touch him, grabbing him again and again. No woman had ever had this hunger for him. Sharon couldn’t shake him for a while, but when they were together she hadn’t jumped into bed with him at any chance she could get, as if it was entirely one long history of lovemaking. He got the feeling that Darcy would be like this all the time if their circumstances were different. 

“Sarah,” he murmured. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“My birth mother is Lisa,” Darcy said. “I… remember meeting her when I was little. I haven’t seen her in-person since.”

There was a shift in her, memories she didn’t want to discuss. 

“She didn’t want me,” she added, clearing her throat. “She had me really young. When I got pregnant with Ellie, I was worried I’d be like her.”

“But you’re not,” Steve murmured. “You’re a great mom.”

Darcy’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Steve hadn’t fully convinced her. 

“She’ll never worry about money,” she murmured. “Between me and Brock…”

She trailed off. Steve wished the man hadn’t been mentioned. Darcy seemed to come back to herself, the version of her that kept a wall up, even from Steve. The last thing he wanted was for her to retreat.

“He didn’t think Ellie was his, at first,” she murmured, breaking their tense silence. 

“What?”

“He made sure we did a paternity test, when I was pregnant,” she whispered. “I never told anyone-”

“Who did he think was the father?”

Darcy swallowed. “Fisk, I guess. Or some other guy he accused me of seeing. He was always so jealous. The only time he didn’t hit me was when I was pregnant. He broke his hand punching a wall, once. Funny how that didn’t happen all the time…”

Steve stared at her, placing his hands on her face, tilting her head to look at him. 

“What?” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I just wanna pretend it’s only you and me, here right now. I don’t want any of the rest.” 

Knowing that Brock called him, threatening him, had begun to manifest itself as guilt in the last day they’d spent together. Steve knew he had to tell her, sooner or later, that the man had been sniffing around Steve’s personal phone. 

“Darcy,” he murmured, feeling his guts twist.

“I know we can’t tell anyone,” she mumbled. “We’ll have to be super careful, all the time. But you can’t just push me away the second we get back to everyone else. It’d be super convenient for you to remember your professionalism when technically you’ve been on duty this entire time-”

He cut her off with a kiss, trying to pour everything he felt into it. His powerlessness drove him nuts, and having all the security measures in the wall still couldn’t make Darcy feel safe. He knew she’d still have nightmares, she’d never have a normal life. He didn’t know what he could give her to help, but he’d do anything to try. His chest ached as he pulled back. 

“He called me. Brock.”

Darcy’s eyes grew wide. “When?”

She shrank away instantly, moving from out of his embrace, sitting up to grab her shirt and underwear, shoving it on as Steve sat up in bed, guts twisting with shame.

“A couple weeks ago,” he said. 

“How long have you been talking to him?” she asked, her voice changed. 

She sounded cold, measured. 

“Wait,” Steve said, and Darcy pivoted, hands balled into fists.

“Did Drax actually hire you, or did Brock get to you first?” she snapped. “Did you tell him about Vegas?”

She’d begun to tremble, her eyes welling with tears. Steve’s heart dropped to his stomach, his hands up.

“Darcy, I’m not who you think I am,” he said. “I swear. He called me because he found my number. I think it’s because he saw that picture of us on Wanda’s Instagram-”

He sat up further on his knees, the blankets still covering his nakedness. Darcy’s eyes darted to his bag, Steve’s eyes following hers. 

She knew he was armed. His gun was in a box among his other clothes. He had a couple knives, too. To his horror, it finally snapped into place. 

She thought he meant to hurt her.

“No. Sweetheart,” he said, hands up. “I swear, I’m no-one. I’m not even a whole…”

Darcy glanced his way finally, sniffling, still shaking. 

“I’m not even a whole person when I’m not with you,” he said, the words falling out. He let out a shaky breath. “Darcy, look at me.”

She met his eyes, gulping. 

“I swear on my mother’s soul I am here to protect _you_. Brock rang me because he said he’d kill me if I slept with you.”

She looked more like her daughter Ellie then, overwhelmed and frightened, her wide eyes leaking tears. She sniffed. 

“Hey, hey,” he said, shuffling toward the edge of the bed. “It’s okay.”

Darcy crumbled, beginning to weep. 

“I’m sorry,” she wailed, and Steve got out of bed, moving toward her to hug her tight, Darcy’s arms winding around him. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, softer. 

-

Darcy felt ill, her fear nauseating her. She clung to Steve, feeling so much smaller. 

She leaned up to kiss him, Steve returning it. Her hands were already tugging her clothes back off, and she was pushing back down onto the mattress, climbing onto his lap. 

“You sure?” he whispered, and she nodded, her eyes still wet. 

“Please,” she whispered back. 

It didn’t take much for her to be moaning again, so desperate to release herself from the need of him. It didn’t feel like it would ever be enough, being closer to him only made it harder to step away. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should trust you.”

“I doubt blame you,” he said. 

They were talking as Darcy rode him, her hips picking up speed, their breaths turning to pants. 

“I’m sorry,” he added. “I should’ve told you when it happened.”

His hands were on her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, his cheeks flushing as she kept going. He was helping her get off just by how he was looking at her, like he couldn’t bear to look away. 

“Fuck, Steve,” she gasped, and she came, going still, shuddering over the edge, her fingers pressed to where they met. 

Steve leaned up, kissing her, cradling her. She began to cry again, unsure of what triggered her. He wrapped his arms around her, lying down with her, Darcy’s vision blurring.

“I’m sorry…”

“You can cry, okay?” he whispered. “You can cry all you want, sweetheart. There’s no shame in it. You go ahead and cry, I got you.”

Darcy wept, burying her face in his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	17. Part Seventeen: I've Just Seen a Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if my updates seem chaotic for a while, this fic is still very much on my mind but I'm struggling mentally ~*~*~

**Part Seventeen: I've Just Seen a Face**

They were lying beside one another, his hand stroking her face. She was so much more aware of his hands, how he touched her all the time. He was as touchy-feely as she was, at least when it came to her. 

She knew the last three days had only cemented how she felt about him, that without him she wasn’t the same person. She was beginning to understand the songs she wrote, the same ones that she sung to crowds, not really knowing what she was expressing through her music. Now, she could comprehend the terrifying, overwhelming flurry of it all. She felt giddy and helpless. She felt so sure and so confused, all at once. Every moment between them since the day they lay eyes on one another, each glance and touch of him rolling over and over in her head. 

“We have to go,” he whispered, and Darcy nodded. 

Back to civilisation. Back to screaming fans and not enough sleep. She’d eaten nothing but carbs for three days. Her trainer would tell her she was a mess without saying she was. Her stylists would lament her belly, Wanda would use less concealer under her eyes for a day or two before she went back to looking exhausted.

You get to be around him all the time, she reminded herself. That was true, she was always with him, but not in the ways that mattered. She felt a wave of sorrow that she could push down, watching as Steve sat up, dressing for the day. He took out a shirt and buttoned it, Darcy hugging her knees as she watched him. 

He leaned down to kiss her, light and quick. “C’mon, sweetheart. You don’t wanna be late.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. Her voice cracked at the end and Steve lowered himself, taking her face in his hands.

“What can I do to help?”

“Turn back time so we can do it all over again?” she whispered, and he gave her a little smile, a sad one she knew too well. She knew he meant to mend her.

“I wish I could,” he whispered back. 

She clutched his face, pouring herself into the next kiss, Steve sighing and holding her tighter, lowering them both to lie down. He kissed her face as the tears began to fall, Darcy’s sniffles disappearing once he settled between her thighs, burying his face there as she gripped his fuzzy head. 

“Please, please,” she whispered, hips lifting.

They dressed fifteen minutes later, Darcy wanting more, but Steve pulled away from her, shaking his head. 

“Later?” she asked, hopeful. 

His lips parted, and Darcy’s hand was still resting on his belt. She lifted herself up higher, her mouth slanting over his, and he tasted of her musk. They broke apart and Steve gave a long sigh.

“Maybe,” he whispered.

“Maybe we should have a code,” she said, when they got in the car, Steve reversing down the driveway. His hand was resting on the back of her chair as she said this, the sight of the side of his face as he checked their surroundings prompting her. 

“What kind of code?” he murmured, a little smile forming. Satisfied, they took off down the driveway. 

Darcy rolled her tongue between her teeth. “Like, when everyone’s around us, we can still talk like it’s just the two of us.”

“Okay,” he said.

“I’m serious.”

“I got that,” he said. “But I’m telling you now, you’ll get sick of me yanking my earlobe all day.”

Darcy chuckled. “What would the earlobe mean?”

“‘I miss you’,” he said, their eyes meeting. He put the car into drive and stepped on the accelerator. 

She felt her stomach flutter. “What about… I tap my chin with two fingers when you look at me?”

“What would that mean?”

“‘I want you’,” she murmured. 

Steve smiled at her. He did one of his slow blinks that meant he was happy, his eyes turning toward the road. 

Darcy didn’t know where her head was at, because she wanted to stay in bed all day again. She wanted to make up for all the weeks she’d spent not doing that with him. She wanted to know every part of him, every flaw and bad decision. He’d had so much time learning her, it was unfair. They’d talked about their dreams, how Darcy wanted a Grammy despite knowing awards in general weren’t what they were cracked up to be. She wished for Ellie to always be safe and happy, to never know the isolation she’d felt. Steve wanted that for her, too. He wished for a family, someone to grow old with. He wished for what Bucky had with his wife Nat. 

Steve was romantic, maybe even more so than Darcy ever was. She’d confided in him about everything, that she’d never been in love. He didn’t seem to judge her. He kept staring at her, over the last few days, with a reverence that would have made Darcy nearly hostile if he was anyone else.

He’d cracked the code. Or she had, with him. Things weren’t so foreign. 

-

A mile out from their destination, Darcy had kissed him one last time at an intersection. They’d be back at the hotel in a couple minutes, and she’d belong to other people again, tugged in several directions at once.

It hurt more knowing that, seeing her cry as much as he did in the last few days. Steve bit his lip, kept catching her glances on their way. 

She was better at this than him. She was better at wearing masks, knowing which version of her was needed. She’d put one on already, though it was only the two of them walking up to the hotel, her arm looped through his. 

She wasn’t happy to be there, and neither was he, Steve’s face like stone as Darcy kept her sunglasses on indoors as they took the elevator. 

“Ready?” she murmured to him, and he rose two fingers to tap his chin.

She smirked. 

They reached Darcy’s team’s floor and they met with Wanda in the hallway, her arms open for a hug. 

“We’ve got a radio show this afternoon,” she murmured, her eyes shifting to Steve’s. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey,” he replied, jaw ticking as he saw Emma Frost and a couple other dancers coming down the hallway, giggling and chatting together. 

“Hi, boss,” Emma said to Darcy as they reached her, forming a semi circle on one side, Steve and Darcy facing them all.

Steve knew it wasn’t accurate, Emma was employed by the touring company that the label owned. It wasn’t as though she was there by Darcy’s choice. She’d already expressed her distaste for the blonde, her false smile spreading across her face.

“Hey. Ready for tomorrow?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Kitty said, beaming. She was genuinely nice, whereas the rest of the dancers made Steve suspicious and protective. 

He witnessed Kitty hand Darcy a tampon once, patting her arm at the time. She was always telling Emma to cool it. Steve suspected Emma had lost all need to be subtle around him. She was looking him up and down right now, eyes darting to Darcy when she began to speak again. 

“It was good to get away, but I’m sure y’all will make me shine on stage.”

“Was it fun?” Emma said, breaking her silence, and Steve realized she was talking to him. 

“Pardon me?” he said, and the exchange was immediately awkward, which was exactly what he wanted. He’d feel bad for her if she were anyone else, but he saw the contempt in her eyes when she occasionally let her own mask slip around Darcy. 

“Where’d you go?”

“Not far from here,” Darcy answered for him. 

They’d agreed already that Darcy would still dominate conversations that involved him. It wouldn’t be as convincing if they switched roles around in front of the team. He didn’t want anyone to believe a single thing had changed since three days ago, when they first slipped away. He couldn’t comprehend how little time had passed, and yet he was an entirely different person when he was with her now.

“We’d better get started,” Wanda said, touching Darcy’s arm. “Sorry, girls.”

“That’s okay, we’re headed down to the bus,” Kitty said.

Steve lingered in the hallway as the girls walked off, Wanda and Darcy heading toward the hotel room, his eyes on the back of Emma’s head. 

“Human vibrator,” he heard her say, with little effort to cover it. 

“Emma!” Kitty chided, slapping her arm. “He can _hear_ you.”

“I don’t care. He’s a fucking robot,” she muttered.

When he was left alone in the corridor, Steve let out a scoff. Emma wasn’t entirely wrong, he’d been almost obsessive in making Darcy feel good for the last few days. He didn’t think Emma meant anything substantial by it, it wasn’t a rumor among the team that he was fucking Darcy, as far as he was aware. He rubbed his head with a short sigh and finally turned his heel, headed to the hotel room.

-

Molly had been all over him when he saw her, Ellie giggling as he was licked in a needy frenzy. He pushed the dog back, rubbing her flank.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered. 

He saw Darcy was looking over at them from her chair where Wanda was making her up. He gave a little smile and ducked his gaze again. Being submissive and quiet was harder when all he wanted was to walk over to Darcy’s chair and kiss her, ruin that lipstick a little bit. 

“You have a good time with her, bug?” he murmured to Ellie, whose nanny Colleen was sitting on the floor like Steve was. 

“Yeah, I love Molly,” Ellie said. “She has a wet nose.”

“She does, yeah,” Steve said. Darcy was definitely staring at him.

She was playing The Beatles through her phone, humming occasionally. She was being the fun mom role, Ellie giggling when she made faces at her in the vanity. 

“We’ve got seven minutes,” Wanda murmured, checking her phone, dusting something on Darcy’s nose.

Steve knew Darcy needed a full face of makeup to go do more press, but he knew she’d only wipe it off within a couple hours to go rehearse. She raised her eyebrows at Steve when she took his hand later, slipping back into the elevator with him to go downstairs and drive back across the city. 

“Cheer up,” she said, not unlike Nat when he was grumpy.

Steve’s jaw ticked but he nodded, knowing he needed to get a grip. It was touching to know she noticed his discomfort when she had so many other things to worry about. It was proving that it wasn’t a fluke, the last few days in bed hadn’t been a flash in the pan romance like so many others before.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she murmured. 

They were alone, but he still tapped his chin with two fingers, Darcy’s lip curling in recognition. 

“Me, too,” she whispered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3aFVbiHgP7Kpu8idloZufh?si=A73tehLiQzC6rHwkDmNqPw&nd=1)   
>  [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
